


This Time, Let Me Find You

by wrcdiane



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (but glenn is not dead?), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Court Politics, Dimileth are parents!, Dimitri learns to heal this time, F!Byleth and M!Byleth genderswap in two worlds, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, POV Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Time Travel, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 102,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrcdiane/pseuds/wrcdiane
Summary: Five years after the war, Dimitri and the Lions are enjoying their peaceful life when javelins of light hit Fhirdiad. Dimitri wakes up, finding himself back in Duscur, with Glenn by his side.And he needs to find Byleth in this lifetime, a promise he made. And this time, he learns to heal.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 322
Kudos: 436
Collections: Love You Again





	1. I Will Love You Again

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to @demonyom [(see their lovely work Promise Me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136527/chapters/60904276)
> 
> Thank you for inspiring me to get my guts together and write in English. Also, I fell in love with dragon!Byleth and here we go.
> 
> This fanfic is inspired by @quags1re and their [Godspeed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157739/chapters/47757037).
> 
> And also @mitsuboo and their [Anytime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250463/chapters/55674478).
> 
> I mean, if you ship dimileth, you probably have read these two fics but I just can’t say enough how much I enjoy them.
> 
> Ratings may go up if smut serves the plot at some point.
> 
> I plan to update every Sunday, but you know, r.i.p. college seniors. I'll try to stick to this schedule ><><

“My beloved… Yes… my beloved.”

Dimitri’s hands trembled as the words leave his mouth. He felt years of pressure leaving his shoulders, and yet another wave of stress was ready to consume him.

“There’s something I wish to give you before the coronation. Give me your hand.”

The ring. Silver band, with an emerald in the center, a gemstone his late mother loved. And it reminded him of her eyes.

Part of his brain screamed at him. Is it right? Do I deserve to ask her?

_Do I deserve anything at all?_

Her silence only magnified his anxiety. Dimitri closed his eye, one hand over his eyepatch, “Please… say something. If you do not wish to accept it, I will face the truth and—”

Byleth pulled him in for a kiss, lips cutting off anything he was about to say.

The kiss was short, nothing but a chaste peck on his lips. However, that was enough to take all of his breaths away. “Be- beloved?” Dimitri’s chest heaved, suddenly not sure what to do.

Byleth took out a small pouch. “I love you, Dimitri,” she revealed a silver ring. “Marry me.”

Dimitri didn’t realize his tears falling down until Byleth wiped them away with her gentle hands. He smiled and kissed her deeply, devouring the taste of wine lingering on her tongue. Tomorrow, he would be king. Dimitri could hear the nobles and guests, songs and their laughter coming from the ballroom. Somehow, he didn’t care anymore. As long as she was there with him, nothing would be more important.

When they finally parted, both of them flushed, knees weak and head light. Their eyes only saw each other, taking the other person’s face in as if mapping every trace of love from their features. Their breaths were hot, foreheads together and noses only half an inch away.

“Let us exchange them, shall we? Thank you, beloved. Your kind, warm hands… May they cling to my own forevermore…”

\-----

  
It was now one year after the unification of Fódlan.

With Dedue’s help, Ashe started a family restaurant with his siblings near the castle. Dimitri and Byleth visited the place fairly often, and when Byleth was pregnant, she threw up nearly everything except Ashe and Dedue’s cooking: Daphnel Stew, Fruit and Herring Tart—things they had back at Garreg Mach.

Dimitri remembers Byleth’s severe morning sickness. She woke up vomiting violently before finally getting a break when the waves of nausea calmed down. He held his wife in one arm, another hand rubbing her back.

“Feeling better, beloved?”

“For now,” Byleth chuckled and left a peck on his cheek. “Curse your crest.”

Dimitri distantly remembered some older maids retelling stories of her late mother’s pregnancy. When Cecilia was pregnant, she suffered symptoms similar to what Byleth was having—kicks more frequent, horrible morning sickness, and constantly throwing up.

The baby probably had a Crest of Blaiddyd. People in the court had been talking.

Crest or not, Dimitri didn’t care. Thank Sothis, he thought, that somehow Blaiddyd fetuses had yet to gain (or wouldn’t use) the insane strength like their older counterparts did. Probably biology was keeping them from killing their mothers.

At the foot of their bed lay Lucas, a Blaiddyd Rex Byleth brought with her from the monastery. He curled around her feet, occasionally raising a gentle glance at the couple. Dimitri didn’t like the idea of another living being sharing his bed with Byleth, but at least… dogs had very warm stomachs, keeping his wife’s feet nice and warm in a cold Faerghus morning.

“What do you want for lunch today?” Dimitri pushed some of the hair away from Byleth’s eyes.

“Please, I just threw up my breakfast.”

“Beloved, you always get hungry quickly.”

“Just… anything that’s not fish. I do love fish but maybe not every meal.”

Messengers brought in documents from the monastery, waiting for Archbishop Eisner-Blaiddyd’s approval.

Byleth and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd-Eisner. He liked the sound quite a lot. However, when they brought up joining their last names to the advisors after their engagement annnouncement, it started quite a ruckus in the court, giving Byleth the first taste of how ridiculous the nobles could be on tiny issues, as if she was about to rob the royal treasury and whisk the King away and run off to, who knows, Almyra.

In the end, both sides compromised. Byleth and Dimitri got to combine their last names, but they would now be the Eisner-Blaiddyds, instead of the alphabetical order. The advisors believed putting the royal last name last would somehow make it more important (Dimitri and Byleth rolled their eyes). Their children would be Eisner-Blaiddyds as well, but when the future monarch ascended the throne, the monarch themselves would change their name back to Blaiddyd.

After Byleth made it out of the bed to work (Lucas jumping off the bed and following her), Dimitri met with his ambassador from Duscur before putting off work and sneaking into Ashe’s restaurant.

Since the court loved gossip and commonfolk in particular loved gossip from the court, news that the Queen preferred Cerulean Tavern’s Duscur inspired cuisine to the royal kitchen spread across the continent. To say the restaurant was overcrowded was probably the biggest understatement of the century, so Dimitri and Dedue had to take the backdoor for grocery delivery to get into the restaurant kitchen without being bothered.

With the help from Ashe and Dedue and the recipes they developed with exactly accurate measurement, Dimitri had started practicing cooking. The royal cooks were horrified when the King suggested to do some cooking himself and definitely refused the King to “deign himself to visit such a humble and low place,” so Dimitri resorted to Ashe’s restaurant since nobody here would raise a brow.

“Very nice, Your Majesty,” said Dedue with a smile, examining the herbs Dimitri had delicately chopped into slices. It took a lot of practice for him to hold back his strength not to cut the board in half. He was beginning to get used to it.

It was not a complicated dish, not that Dimitri could cook anything fancier or Byleth could tolerate any in her condition. Dimitri seared the chicken, skin side down, until they were golden brown. Ashe was keeping an eye on the sauce just to make sure it wasn’t burned. Then Dimitri plated, and put the plates into a container insulated with layers of fur and fabric to keep warm.

Byleth was talking to Felix when he got back. “Hello, Felix,” he said, putting the food down on the table in front of his Queen, and the raven-haired man hummed in response.

“What is this?” Byleth picked up her cutlery. “Something’s different today.”

Dimitri didn’t respond. He smiled when Byleth took her first bite, “Good?” Lucas had all his attention on the food, ears up and mouth closed as if trying to be a good boy.

“It’s so good,” Byleth closed her eyes. “Lemme guess. Is it Rose’s cooking?” Ashe’s little sister.

Dimitri’s smile deepened. Byleth tilted her head. “No? Then… Jack.” Ashe’s younger brother.

“I made it,” Dimitri admitted, enjoying how Byleth’s eyes lit up in surprise. “But… with lots of help from Dedue and… Ashe’s recipe.”

Felix rolled his eyes, “Ugh I’ve had enough of you two. I hope you didn’t just poison her.”

Dimitri cleared his throat, “They were made for sharing, and I brought enough for all of us”

“Oh Felix, you must try this,” Byleth picked up another plate.

“Who knows what the boar put in there so no thank you.”

“Well, if his wife who also happens to be pregnant with his baby tested it, it should be poison-free.”

Felix finally relented. “Fine! If you will shut up,” and started eating. He didn’t say anything, but Dimitri was sure he enjoyed it, because the Duke wouldn’t do anything just to be polite.

When the three heard a familiar voice, they didn’t need to look up to see who it was. “Having a feast without me huh?”

Sylvain, escorted by Ingrid, entered the room with a grin. Dimitri didn’t miss the joy and surprise flashing across Felix’s face. Ingrid, however, looked a bit tired, probably due to some of the Margrave’s new shenanigans. She was knighted soon after Dimitri’s coronation and had been in the royal family’s service since.

“What took you so long?” Byleth asked.

“We all know he takes his time flirting with every maid and court lady here,” Felix huffed.

“Felix! That hurt. You know my heart only beats for _you_.”

The Duke’s face turned bright red before stomping off. “You are disgusting!”

\-----

  
Nothing in Dimitri’s life had ever been so right, so happy before, except for one thing—Byleth giving birth. He wasn’t worried. He was _horrified_.

They got the nursery ready, midwives and maids in place three months before the due date. Dimitri inspected everything over and over. A baby blanket too stiff for the newborn’s soft tender skin would make him lose his temper. A midwife or maid gossiping too much? Say goodbye to your job.

The ghosts of the past stood behind the King, laughing and whispering poison.

_Your spawn will only kill her._

_Just like you, it will be nothing but a monster-_

They are not real. Dimitri reminded himself painfully.

When Dimitri lost it for the third time after he started building the cradle himself but seemed to only break everything, the Blue Lions realized he was nervous, like fearing a battle plan going south during the war.

“Dimitri, It’s alright,” Byleth found him in the nursery. She took his hands in hers, waving a healing spell gently over his bruised hands.

“…No, it is not.” Dimitri shook his head in frustration. “What if we are not doing enough? What if something we never expected happens? What- I…” And he realized maybe he should’ve been the person to comfort his wife.

“I’m sorry, beloved, I just…I can’t even put a cradle together. The blankets are either too thin or too stiff. And the curtains… just—just look at it! Who puts a demonic beast on the curtains for a baby?! Trying to give them a nightmare?!”

“…I’m pretty sure that’s a frog.”

“No, it’s- Listen, every time we went into battle, you’d always had everything prepared. Nothing went wrong, not even once, but this time, I should be the one to care for you, and yet I just keep screwing up everything.”

“Alexandre,” Byleth’s hands tightened. “Alexandre, look at me.” Something shifted in Byleth’s eyes, and he got nervous. “It’s not a battle, and… none of my plans were perfect. I’m not even sure if any of them ever worked out the way we wanted.”

Dimitri blinked, obviously confused, but… it was true. There was always a change of plans in the middle of a battle when Byleth suddenly yelled at them to change formation. Sometimes ridiculous, too risky but always worked.

Byleth sighed. She wanted to say something but decided otherwise. Dimitri didn’t push.

“Just remember, Sothis has always been with me, and it will be fine.”

Dimitri took a deep breath. He finally calmed himself down, and kissed Byleth’s knuckles.

“Alright.”

\-----

  
6th of Garland Moon, 1187. It didn’t go as planned, as always.

First, 38 days before the date, after lunch, Byleth felt like she was having bad cramps. She brushed it off as another “side effect” of the baby’s potential Crest of Blaiddyd before realizing she couldn’t stand up anymore and her water broke.

Doctors and midwives were called in. Advisors gathered in the meeting room. The Blue Lions, who were in the capital, waited outside of the royal chambers, when Dedue had sent messengers to the Duke and Margrave’s territories.

Dimitri was holding Byleth’s hand after contractions got worse and she hissed in pain. He almost lost it when Gilbert told him the traditions said the King must wait outside. The King almost had his hand on his sword. That's _his wife. His Queen._ Annette had to drag her father away before another bloodshed took place.

He and Byleth both knew if they’d left Dimitri outside, the ghosts would’ve swallowed him. She was probably the most powerful charm in the world, her presence warding off darkness.

Plus, Byleth wanted him there.

Mercedes, who was leading the doctors and midwives, insisted on Dimitri keeping track of Byleth’s contractions. It calmed the King down, giving him something else to do instead of worrying over everything.

“Would you remind us of the contractions, Your Majesty?” Mercedes’ gentle voice was always soothing. Though she asked, Dimitri was very sure she always kept an eye on Byleth’s condition. She definitely knew.

“The last two were… about 45 seconds. The window was six minutes.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now let’s see, I think the professor is ready,” she checked under Byleth’s gown.

It was a painful process, not only for Byleth. Dimitri felt like every second was an agony, comforting her when she was sobbing and screaming. He cursed the goddess for making childbirth so painful. He blamed himself for putting Byleth through this.

He held Byleth in his arms when Mercedes instructed her to walk around. Byleth’s knees were giving out. Dimitri tightened his hold, kissing her forehead gently and whispering encouragement.

“Beloved, you’re doing so well,” he kissed away the tears on her face, “just a little bit more. I love you.” It pained him to see her face twist in agony.

And when the baby, _a boy_ , was finally pushed out of her body and the King cut the cord with trembling hands, Dimitri finally let out a long breath in joyful tears before another thing went wrong.

There was a second baby.

Byleth went back into labor again. Roughly ten minutes later, she gave birth to a girl. The two babies cried at the top of their lungs. Mercedes went to announce the news, and outside of the chambers, the couple heard the Lions cheering in joy and relief. Dimitri was terribly happy, holding Byleth and the twins on her chest, and he suddenly realized the nursery was meant for only one child.

There was only one cradle. One set of blankets. Why did none of the doctors find out they were having _twins_?!

Dimitri panicked.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Byleth said gently, kissing his eyepatch. Somehow, this always calmed him down. “Would you hold them?”

“I- I’m afraid-”

“You won’t hurt them. You’re their father,” Byleth seemed to know all of his fear.

Mercedes helped put the boy in Dimitri’s arms. “See? You’re doing just fine with little Alex,” Byleth chuckled.

He almost cried when feeling the soft, warm body of his son. _His son_. Then Dimitri left countless kisses on his daughter’s face, before kissing Byleth on her lips. Mercedes had led the maids cleaning up the chambers and closed the door for them to have some time together.

“Family of four,” Dimitri said, as if dreaming.

“Family of four,” Byleth repeated, leaning into his body. “Sitri, Byleth, little Alexandre, and big Alexandre.”

Dimitri couldn’t control his tears anymore. He cried but chuckled, holding his wife and children. “To think, if you hadn’t found me in the Goddess Tower, I… Thank you, beloved. For bringing me back to light. For all of your love. For giving me- a family.”

“Will you do the same again?”

“…the same? Like… getting you pregnant?”

“Alexandre!” Byleth really wanted to kick him off the bed, if not for Dimitri was holding their son.

“Just joking!” Dimitri laughed, but his gaze went tranquil, giving her full attention.

“Will you love me again? If there is next life?”

There is silence. “Beloved, I will find you like you found me in the Goddess Tower. I will stay by your side and love you again. If you don’t remember me anymore, I will manifest my love again and again until you remember how many kisses we shared, how many nights we gazed up the sky counting stars, and how embarrassing we were when we started courting. I will let you know that you can never run away from me.”

And that sent Byleth in tears.

\-----

  
It was now five years after the war. After the twins’ third birthday celebration, Sylvain and Felix announced their engagement. The Lions were quick to throw another party to celebrate, but the nobles didn’t take it well. If not for their sacrifice and contribution during the war and not for Dimitri’s support, the nobles would have demanded to throw them out of the court.

Sylvain laughed it off. Felix scoffed at their bigotry. A wedding was on the way.

Besides the King and the Queen, Princess Sitri Cecilia Eisner-Blaiddyd and Crown Prince Alexandre Lambert Eisner-Blaiddyd were thrilled to receive their invitation from “Uncle Sylvain and Uncle Felix,” because they felt like “big children” now. Dimitri got a note from Felix attached to his invitation, who blamed the King to have named their children with ridiculously long names that cost him too much time to write down, wasting his time not to do something meaningful such as training.

Dimitri knew it was his way to say “Please bring the children.”

16th of Verdant Rain Moon. Apparently, the new couple wanted to have their wedding soon than anything else. Instead of spending months planning the events, Felix and Sylvain decided to get married before summer ended, when the weather was still nice for outside activities. With only two moons, they didn’t bother to tailor new suits or commission anything fancy (except the rings), and only close friends were invited.

Before they set off for the Fraldarius estate, Dimitri had a nightmare. His sleep had been peaceful for many moons when things were only too good to be true, and maybe— _maybe_ , this could balance his eerie happiness to make everything normal again, because nothing could be so good. Sometimes when things were perfect, he feared losing them again.

He dreamed that he was all alone again. No Byleth, no twins, all alone.

When he woke up trembling, Dimitri felt Byleth’s arm draping over his waist, squeezing his right hand as if feeling his distress in her sleep. Beams of sunlight leaks through the curtains, dancing on the floor when gentle breeze waved the sapphire fabrics.

Dimitri turned and faced Byleth’s sleeping form, heart falling back to its place. Nothing was wrong. She was still there, by his side. His gaze lingered on her long lashes, some hair falling in her eyes, so she tried to push them away subconsciously. Dimitri did it for her. He loved seeing her hair basking in sunlight, as if with a divine halo.

Feeling his gaze, Byleth opened her eyes, still sleepy.

“Good morning, Alexandre.”

“Good morning, beloved,” Dimitri kissed her eyes. “It’s still early. Try get more sleep.”

“Mmmmm. Maybe I should.” Byleth let out a sigh, “but I was having a very juicy dream.”

“What did you dream about?” Dimitri’s thumb drew circles on her lower back.

“Garreg Mach, Blue Lions classroom. You were all flushed and flustered and bent me over a desk-”

“ _Goddess have mercy_ -” Dimitri buried his face in her hair.

“Though I think I’d like to try it physically, not through a dream.” She flipped Dimitri on his back, tracing a finger from his throat down to his shirtless chest and navel. He pulled her nightgown off, massaging her waist and then the small of her back. Then she started straddling him, a grin of pleasure on her face.

Dimitri pushed Byleth on the mattress, enjoying how she let out a squeal of surprise. Just as he pushed her panties down and slid in and groaned in delight, two soft little humans burst into their room. “Daddy!! Mommy!!”

Dimitri scrambled to cover their naked forms with the blanket and tried his best put his pants back on under that comforter before realizing they were on the floor. Byleth laughed while he groaned. Dimitri muffled her laugh with a kiss before pulling her in for another embrace.

“Ew!” Sitri stuck her tongue out.

But Alex only blinked, “Daddy, what were you doing with Mommy?”

“Daddy was kissing and hugging Mommy, because he loves her very much.” Dimitri was surprised how calm he was. Maybe it was because the kids were too young to understand anything.

Alex blinked again, “Then should I kiss and hug Sitri? I love her very much.”

“NO!” Dimitri heard Byleth saying with him at the same time. “Not with your sister!”

“Go find your nanny, Daddy will be there in one second,” Dimitri said, and the twins squealed and ran out of their room.

“Didn’t you lock the door?” Byleth laughed.

“I thought you did.”

The King caught the Queen’s lips in his once again. He loved seeing her squirm underneath, before hearing Alex yell, “C’mon Sitri! Let’s go and play!”

Byleth immediately pushed Dimitri off, “No, Alexandre! Not before you put your clothes on!” And put her nightgown back on and strode to catch their children.

Dimitri groaned in bed. _Why did I have kids_?

He never told Byleth how much he feared her calling Alex’s full name, because that only happened when she was _very_ angry, and Dimitri felt like she was calling for him.

\-----

  
Sylvain kissed a very impatient but flustered Felix after Seteth announced them husband and husband. The Lions cheered.

The banquet was more or less a small luncheon held in the garden. Dedue was spinning little Alex around. The young crown prince was nothing but happy, screaming his excitement. “More spinning!”

“More, Your Highness?” Dedue smiled and spun him again.

Byleth and Dimitri had tried to correct Dedue, because it was only weird to hear him saying Their Highnesses when the children called him Uncle Dedue. However, the loyal vassal had never called Dimitri anything but honorifics, so Dimitri was only happy that he loved playing with the twins.

Also, the royal couple was only grateful that Dedue had kept Alex busy for the time being. They were pretty sure if the prince got bored, he would start touching and breaking everything, thanks to the major Crest of Blaiddyd he bore, and Felix would kill Dimitri.

Eventually, Alex grew hungry and tired. Dedue fetched a plate of Saghert and Cream, but the prince, somehow, only wanted to share a plate with him.

Sylvain and Felix were alone next to the garden fountain. Dimitri saw Sylvain feeding him a skewer, and Felix actually opened his mouth willingly and ate it.

Byleth tried to feed Sitri, who only was only interested in the flowers and running around. This was when Dimitri stepped in. He gently brushed Byleth’s shoulder.

“Hello, Sitri. Would you show me the lovely flowers you’ve got from Uncle Felix’s garden?”

“Hello, Daddy.” Sitri held a small basket full of flowers. She held a bunch up, showing them to her father. “The gardener lady told me these are butterfly rana- ranancu…los.”

“Butterfly ranunculus? How lovely.” Dimitri smiled. “See, Daddy finds these flowers so beautiful, that he wants his lovely daughter to braid his hair with them.”

“Do you want to?” Sitri’s eyes lit up. She always loved playing and braiding Dimitri’s hair, who would happily wear the messy braids all day, much to the court ladies and advisors’ amusement.

“Yes, so if you eat your lunch, I will let you braid my hair with those butterfly ranunculi.”

And so Sitri did. She started braiding his hair while Byleth fed her spoon by spoon, and the result was…horrid, as a three-year-old’s chubby fingers could only make sure the flowers were in his hair. Byleth chuckled. Sylvain laughed so hard that he was choking. There was even a tiny smile in Felix’s eyes.

“Very handsome, Your Majesty.” The loyal vassal couldn’t hold his amusement in check.

Sitri, on the other hand, was satisfied with the result. “Rananculos is nice, but I like carnations better.” She picked up some flowers, saying absentmindedly.

Carnation. Edelgard’s favorite flower.

Dimitri still remembered planting those flowers with her in Castle Fhirdiad, when things were bright and simple. He still could not associate that proud girl with light brown hair with the emperor willing to transform into a monstrous hegemony, after setting the entire continent ablaze.

He’d spent years after the war trying to understand Edelgard. What led to her twisted violent and bloodthirsty ideals? What happened to her after she left the Kingdom?

However, for now, Dimitri decided not to dwell on the past. It was a happy day.

He kept the braids until nightfall when he was finally making sweet sweet love to Byleth.

After he rolled off her body, both of them panting, Dimitri turned and held Byleth in his arms. “I want this moment to last forever.”

“I thought you were gonna say you wanted another child.”

“Please, no more. I knew how much you suffered during pregnancy.” He put a hand on Byleth’s lower abdomen and stayed there.

Suddenly, Byleth tensed.

“Beloved?”

Byleth was silent. Dimitri waited patiently for her to speak.

“Nothing. Maybe I was too- I don’t know,” Byleth was suddenly distressed. “Something is coming and it doesn’t feel right, but I just don’t know what it is.”

Dimitri kissed her nape. “Sleep, beloved. It will be a long ride home, and there’s nothing we can’t face together.”

\-----

  
The journey back to Fhirdiad was uneventful, but Byleth was stressed. When they made it across the border to the capital, she suddenly ordered to stop.

“Everyone! Get out of your carriage! **Now!** ” She pushed Sitri into Dimitri’s arms while she held Alex. The twins were scared, face pale. The knights and servants were confused, but they knew better than to question their Queen’s order.

“Beloved? Is something wrong?”

“Dimitri, we need to get out of here- The Pulse- I’m out-”

“Byleth? You have to tell me what’s going on!”

“ **Just go!** ”

But before the couple and children made it anywhere, lights fused with magic rained down the sky. People were screaming. Explosions. Blood. Boulders falling from the mountains. Trees and the ground burning like what he saw years ago in Duscur, masking everything he knew. The ghosts were whispering, announcing his failure again.

Byleth. The children. Dimitri suddenly recalled, pushing down his episode and pushing them out of the carriage and following behind. Dedue and Ingrid shouted at the knights, trying to cover the royal family out of the mountains, but it was too late.

Another beam of light was about to land, and Dimitri knew there was nothing to go.

“ _ **Byleth!!!**_ ” He threw himself forward, throwing his body over his wife and children, pushing them down to the ground.

And the last thing he remembered, was Dedue’s cries, and Byleth’s trembling “I love you.”


	2. Duscur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri meets Sothis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos! I was only expecting 20-ish hits and maybe 2 kudos, but this is way better!! Love you all!  
> Some comments on Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex. He basically is a golden retriever, not the in-game white/brown/black/yellow puppy. Why? Because my old buddy Lucas passed during the quarantine and I want him to live in my story forever.
> 
> Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence. It’s Duscur.

Dimitri slips in and out of consciousness. He saw his birth mother, Cecilia smiling at him. The world is shifting, as if someone is gently rocking him in their arms. He hears Lambert’s gentle laughs, Gilbert’s—no, Gustav then—stern and courteous words. Then it’s darkness again.

Where is he? One moment he opens his eyes (eyes?), he sees the ceiling of his childhood bedchambers—Alex’s room now. A new lance from Ingrid, a book with illustrations from Sylvain, a crystal ball that predicts weather from Felix (as if Faerghus is ever not snowy), a new cloak from Glenn…

_Wait._

Aren’t those the gifts for his seventh birthday?

After a wave of vertigo, the next moment, he hears Felix crying over the broken sword. Dimitri has happened to break it with one single swing. Sylvain hugs and coos a sobbing Felix, and Glenn pats on Dimitri’s shoulder, telling him a sword is only a sword.

It’s definitely a dream. He is injured, probably in coma.

Dimitri shuts his eyes (eyes??), opening again, trying to remember every detail of this childhood dream. They will vanish when he wakes up. That gentle and happy Felix will disappear. His mother will die. His father’s body will burn in Duscur.

And Glenn—a sword is not just a a sword. His knight, his sword and shield, will die in that foreign land, and the memories will haunt him forever.

When Dimitri opens his eyes again, he sees a throne at the top of hundreds of stairs. A girl with green hair wakes up from her sleep. She rubs her eyes and yawns, “Let’s see, Byleth. What did you mess up this ti…”

“What happened to Byleth?” Dimitri demands.

She finally sees the person in front clearly, surprised at first, but then she does something—Dimitri feels like someone is in his head, skimming through memory after memory, like flipping book pages. Finally, they stop.

“Ugh, I’ve only been asleep for this little while and everything just—ugh!” the girl is visually frustrated, speaking with a sarcastic tone. “Oh well, this will be so interesting.”

“Who are you? What are you even talking about?”

“It’s not the time to explain. There are promises you need to fulfill—oath sworn to your people, promise made to your beloved wife.” The girl waves her hand, a sigil appearing in front of her. Dimitri recognizes the shape. Isn’t that… “Now go, King Dimitri, son of Lambert the Brave, Savior of Fódlan. You have my blessing.”

But before he can say anything, the world swirls into vertigo, and there is only darkness again.

\-------

Dimitri tastes blood in his mouth. Not a new feeling, but it still alerts him, hand reaching for Areadhbar, but it’s not there.

“…what?” He tries to open his eyes, but it seems his head has just been hit by a spell. His ears are ringing, his vision blurry.

“Byleth? How are…” Dimitri remembers how he threw himself over his wife and children, reaching out to what was laying underneath him. Only mud. “Byleth?” He panics.

Something is wrong. And why is his voice so…

“ _Your Highness_!” someone shouts, trying to shake him out of his stupor. Strange. It’s been many years since he became His Majesty, and yet… “Your Highness! You must run!”

“Glenn?” Dimitri blinks, finally able to see. Glenn Aeacus Fraldarius kneels in front of him. His clothes are drenched in blood, a mix of his and his enemies’. His face and body smeared with mud and grime. The bun he wears into battle is now tousled, hair dripping blood. A terrible burn spreads from his right shoulder to his forearm, hindering his movement and attack.

“Take my shield. You will keep running, no matter what happens,” Glenn shoves a Talisman shield into Dimitri’s arms.

“Wait—no! what about you?”

_Glenn burned in fire. The smell of burned flesh and blood reminded Dimitri of a swine roasted on fire. He twisted and groaned and screamed, mumbling all the regrets he still had for this world, for Ingrid, for his father, for Felix. And revenge, revenge for me Dimitri, revenge revenge **revenge** —_

“I swore my fealty to His Majesty, and I shall protect him until my last breath,” says Glenn, chivalrous and loyal as ever.

_King Lambert’s head was severed from his shoulders. The cut on his neck spilled blood on Dimitri’s face, so warm and bright red, gushing out like a fountain in spring. He watched in terror as the headless body that once his father’s soul dwelled in twitch in the mud. Twitch and twitch and twitch, as if protesting the absence of a head._

_Dimitri remembered his first kill during the fall hunt. Lambert taught him how to prepare the meat, and the muscle twitched every time he poked it with the tip of his knife. Father said it was because the nerves had not died yet._

“Don’t go.” says Dimitri. If this is a dream, then let this dream turn out differently. Let this Glenn in his dream live on the 3rd of Lone Moon, 1176.

And maybe, _maybe_ he will feel a little bit better, saving at least Glenn even in a world that is not real. How pathetic.

Dimitri feels the urge of nausea but presses it down, trying his best to recall what has happened so far. There was the start of the attack. Lambert was killed. He was separated from his father’s body and couldn’t find Glenn. His stepmother was nowhere to be seen ( _Did she really started this? Dimitri recalls what Cornelia said before he killed her._ ). He broke his lance while trying to defend himself. Someone was about to stab him, but Glenn appeared and blocked the attack, barely, hindered by the burn.

“Dimitri, now is not the time to be stubborn,” Glenn dodges an enemy’s jab and stabs his blade into the man’s chest.

Dimitri picks up the lance from the body, killing a person sneaking behind his back. Glenn has his hand full, facing seven enemies. It should’ve not been a problem for him without the burn, but they are obviously dominating the injured knight.

Another appeared out of nowhere. Dimitri kicks himself out of the mud and jumps in front of Glenn, finishing the new attacker with one swift movement. He doesn’t see the shock in Glenn’s eyes, finishing the rest in one breath and turning back to Glenn. “STAY.”

“I am a knight of Faerghus, and I—”

“Your King is dead!” Dimitri finally loses it. This Glenn in his dream is as stubborn as he remembers. He now can understand why Felix from the other time hated chivalry so much. He hates everyone throwing their lives away for him. He hates being the king, piles of body paving his path to the throne and victory. He hates the ghost wandering in his deepest thoughts, hovering over his shoulder and whispering the darkest of the darkest dreams. He can’t let Glenn die, even he will wake up eventually.

Dimitri swirls on his left heel, swiping a clean Tempest Lance at the new enemies. It should’ve been easy—the killing part. For years he had done nothing but killing and slaughtering and murdering, wandering across the land as the One-Eyed Demon. But now, in this small body of a teenager, his legs tremble and arms hurt when they shouldn’t.

But this feels too real. The vibration when his lance meets bones, the sound of metal clashing, of his eyes being able to see a wider range.

When they are cleared, he turns and stares at Glenn in the eye, blood on his face. “And as _your prince_ , the _heir_ of the late king, and your _new lord_ , I order you to protect _me_ now.” He knows saying the “don’t throw your life away” bullshit will only encourage Glenn to go over to his father’s dead body. “We will _both_ make it out of Duscur, and we will return to Fhirdiad _together_!”

He sees Glenn shaken to his core.

The prince, the gentle lion prince, stands in front of him like a king returned from the tempest. When did it happen? Where did he learn all the techniques? And that is years of battle experience demonstrated just now. There is something about it, something about his voice and posture and the eyes and expression. He can do nothing but obey.

“At your command, Your Highness!” he shouts.

Dimitri turns to the remaining knights, “Everyone, on my order! Keep a safe range from the longbowmen. Anyone with pavises, shield those who do not. We will pull together our remaining forces and crash the enemy formation from the side. They have an advantage with their magic, but once the mages are separated from the main force and their protection, they are useless. We will make it home, together!”

The knights of Faerghus raise their weapons and shout in response. They quickly get into a new formation. Dimitri steals a horse from an enemy after stabbing straight in that person’s head, without even batting an eye, and launches his attacks from horseback. But it does feel liberating to have his right eye back.

If this was real, Glenn would be utterly confused. Dimitri thinks with a grin. He only started learning to fight on horseback before the Tragedy, let alone killing and commanding on a mount.

Dimitri curses his young body’s short legs, for he can’t even reach the stirrup irons, let alone reaching enemies too far away.

Dimitri blocks an arrow aiming at a knight’s head. That knight nods gratefully to him.

He tries to recall what will happen next, but he’s forced to focus on the current moment.

“Your Highness, this road leads to a village,” another knight says. “It may not be safe—”

“If not safe, then we will save the villagers,” Dimitri orders.

“That is not…”

“It is not possible for mere civilians to plan this assassination, not to mention taking a detour will lead us into the desert. We don’t have enough rations. We will go through the village and kill every last enemy who dare assault the civilians.”

“…yes, Your Highness.”

Dimitri notices the surprise in their eyes, and Glenn—he seems puzzled, but he is ready to fight.

“Archers, find your cover. All knights, spread out! Prepare for battle!” Glenn yells his orders.

The village, as Dimitri predicted, has been under attack. He feels dizzy, trying to push his anxiety down, before realizing the dampness on his waist. Blood, too much blood of his own.

“Dimitri, are you alright?” Glenn notices his silence.

“Nothing.” And he lunges into battle. This is only a dream. It won’t kill him.

There are not too many enemies, but enough to terrorize and murder farmers with pickaxe and hoes. As if not satisfied with the violence, they’ve set the village on fire. _Just like Remire._ Dimitri feels a new wave of vertigo and nausea.

Now is not the time. Dimitri reminds himself and hears a girl crying, and a mother praying to a Duscur god that he doesn’t know of. Dimitri pushes out the rubble blocking the entrance to the house. He jumps inside and sees—

“Dedue?!”

_Gustav led a wounded Dimitri out of the battlefield._

_“Your Highness, please get on the horse. It will be a long journey to the border. We cannot risk getting your wounds aggravated.”_

_But the knight’s plea received only silence and the young prince’s sob muffled in his throat. He cannot cry, not even in front of his most trusted knight. He cannot cry—_

_And he tripped on a body, falling face down into the blood-soaked ground. “Your Highness!” Gustav, horrified, ran to Dimitri’s side, but the young prince didn’t get up. He seemed to have noticed something._

_The body belonged to a Duscur boy, hands clutching to the hands of a young girl’s dead body. He groaned involuntarily and opened his eyes._

_Dedue Molinaro met his prince for the first time. The Faerghus boy reached out to the boy of Duscur, who took hold of his hand._

But Dedue doesn’t recognize him, and Dimitri is utterly confused, he remembers meeting Dedue on the way back to Faerghus, and how—

Dimitri sees a little girl, curling in her mother’s arms.

Oh.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Dimitri pulls a wood beam twice his height out of the way and picks up the girl, throwing the mother’s right arm over his shoulder.

Dedue doesn’t move. He looks at the prince in the eyes, as if trying to recall something.

“We… Do we…”

“It’s too dangerous to talk. We need to move,” Dimitri cuts him off.

When they finally make it out to a clearing, the knights have almost cleaned up the fight. “Wait for me here!” Dimitri tells Dedue, and jumps back into another house, where people are still trapped.

\-------

They’ve roughly saved 21 people. Not too many, but better than nothing.

The villagers of Duscur follow the prince and his knights in silence, occasionally glancing at Dimitri with a puzzled expression, until Dimitri cannot fight his blood loss anymore and falls from his horse.

“Damn it! Your Highness!” Glenn rushes to his side, but Dedue is quicker. He has been walking by Dimitri’s side and carries most of his weight when he falls, and Dimitri is glad he didn’t break his neck.

“…thank you.” Is the only thing Dimitri can mutter.

Glenn quickly examines his body and finds the wound. “When did you get injured?!” Glenn cuts a strap from his cloak, then yelling at a holy knight nearby. “Liam! Get your ass over here!”

“How’s your burn?” Dimitri says.

“At least I knew to take care of it but you’d die if I didn’t notice!”

“It’s alright. I will wake up anyway.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Glenn growls. Liam the holy knight waves a heal spell before Glenn wraps and tightens the strap around his waist roughly. That’s definitely on purpose. Dimitri hisses at the sudden pain. “Hey Liam, heal his head too. I’m pretty sure he got some brain injuries based on all the nonsense he’s been muttering.”

That pain is way too real for a dream. Dimitri wants to say something more, but his consciousness finally gives out and it’s darkness again.

He wants to wake up. He has to check on Byleth and the children.

\-------

“My, my. That could’ve been some decent work out there, if you didn’t foolishly ignore your own injuries.”

Dimitri hears that girl once more, speaking lazily. He opens his eyes, and that question rings in his head once more: why does he have both eyes intact? He’s been so used to one being blind, and even in his dreams, he’s been having only one.

“Who are you?” Dimitri asks once more.

The girl with long green hair raises a brow, “Who am I? Here I thought you were always a smart one.” She stands up, leaving her throne and walking down the stairs. Her hair and dress and ribbons drift as if there’s wind but the air is still. The bells on her ankles ring, but with a serene tone, like the gentlest sound from a faraway world.

And she flies, drifting through the air and lands in front of Dimitri.

Together with the sigil he saw earlier, with the Crest of Flames in the middle… “Sothis,” says Dimitri, dreamingly, “You are Sothis.”

The girl grins, confirming his guess, but then Dimitri gets even more confused.

“Then why am I seeing you? That means I’m absolutely one hundred percent very dead, right? If I’m dead and seeing you, you are about to decide whether I go to hell or heaven. But—”

Hell, he doesn’t care, if that can atone his sins. For what he has done and how many he has murdered, he pretty much deserves it. But what about Byleth? What about Alex and Sitri? How are they? “What am I doing here? What’s going on?”

“If you are talking about the mortal realm, they are deciding who will be your guardian.”

“…what?! Do I need a guardian to go to hell?”

“ _UGH_! You are just as dense as Byleth!” Sothis frustratingly flails her arm, one hand clutching her long curly hair. “As the ruler of a holy kingdom with the protection of the goddess, here I assumed you’d be better than a mercenary.”

_Did you ever protect us?_

“I can hear your thoughts, princeling,” says Sothis. “Let’s explain first. You died, when those javelins of lights hit the border of Fhirdiad.”

“I died.”

“Right on the spot.”

“What about the others?”

“Your children are fine, but they were horrified after both of their parents… The knights managed to bring Byleth back to the castle, but she was severely injured and died three days after you.”

Silence.

Byleth. _His_ Byleth.

Dimitri barely strangles a sob in his throat. He tightens his fists, rough enough to draw blood.

“I threw you into another timeline before you died, so that your soul remained intact,” says Sothis.

“And…” with shaky voice, he asks, “Why am I here? Why is _she_ not here with me? Isn’t she the Chose One? Why did you save me? Not her?”

A moment of silence from Sothis.

“I think, because the light weapon was fused with magic unknown to this world for centuries, it was meant to detach me from Byleth, my vessel, at the moment of the attack, and somehow the two of us became one.”

“So you _were_ with Byleth.”

“All the time.”

“Then why did you let it happen? The Tragedy, the war… and, and _this_. You are the goddess, and you keep failing us—”

Dimitri doesn’t manage to finish the sentence when he sees the sorrow in her eyes. Sadness of a thousand years looming over the two of them, suffocating.

“I only awoke in her body in your last lifetime when you first met at Remire, for some reason I don’t even know. And after giving my power to Byleth in the Sealed Forest, I went into slumber again and woke up just now. I couldn’t do anything, so I’m sorry that… I failed as your divine protector.”

“You can apologize, but know that I won’t forgive you.”

“I don’t ask for forgiveness. I ask you to help me.”

“A goddess seeking help from _a mortal_.”

“Do you want to see Byleth again or not? Whoever threw those javelins of light at you are still wandering out there in this time. Either you stop them or we all die together. This time I may not be able to save you.”

_This is all insane_. “Alex and Sitri… What happened to them? I have to see them.”

“Dimitri, you don’t belong to that world anymore. Seeing them will only hurt you.”

“Let me see them, one more time.” Dimitri shakes his head, hard, “Please.”

Sothis sighs. She waves her hand and—

\-------

There is blood. Dimitri sees so much blood in Alex and Sitri’s chambers and the children are nowhere to be found. His heart almost stops—what happened? _What the hell happened here_?

Dimitri hears Sitri’s cries. “Sitri!” He beckons, trying to find his girl, but where are they? _WHERE ARE THEY_?

“SITRI! ALEX!” Dimitri shouts, “Where are you?!”

He goes through door and door and door, running around in the children’s quarters and back into the royal chambers. Maybe they are here…

Before he enters the room, Dimitri hears Ingrid shouting and children crying from another room, voice muffled by the walls and closed door. He tries to turn the handle, but his hand just goes through. He’s a ghost now, a ghost in his past life, a world that he no longer exists. So he closes his eyes and goes straight through the door.

Sitri and Alex are wrapped in blankets, sitting in Mercedes and Annette’s arms. Dimitri almost has a heart attack when seeing them covered in blood, but the twins don’t look hurt. That’s somebody else’s blood. Dimitri rushes to their side, trying to rub their hair but fails, so he murmurs soft words to his children. Somehow Alex stops crying and looks around. Dimitri wonders if he can hear him, but it’s probably just a coincidence.

Ashe is also here, looking lost and angry and sad and…

“How could we ever let assassins in these walls? Into Their Highnesses’ chambers?!” Ingrid yells. Dimitri hasn’t seen her this angry for many, many years. Maybe never. All the commanders of the knights of Faerghus have gathered in the room, and no one mutters a single word, even Gilbert.

_Assassins?_

“Have we identified the attackers? Are they the same people who attacked the royal carriage?” Mercedes asks softly, but voice croaking from hours of mourning. Dimitri now notices everyone’s puffy eyes, even Gilbert has been crying.

“We are still working on identification, Lady Martritz,” Gilbert answers shakily. “If not for Dedue, we could’ve lost both the princess _and_ the crown prince today…”

_Where is Dedue anyway?_ Dimitri looks around the room. _He’s not here._

Hearing the mention of Dedue, Ashe, who has been shedding tears in silence, can’t hold it anymore. He excuses himself abruptly and runs out of the room, and everyone can hear him crying in the hallway.

_No._

Dimitri’s head hurts. His heart breaks. He can’t hear any more of this.

When he goes back to his and Byleth’s chambers, Dimitri sees Byleth lying in bed, motionless. Her face is pale, with traces of blood that has been meticulously cleaned. Someone tried to heal her damaged neck and upper chest, but…

She doesn’t breathe anymore. Her chest is still.

Dimitri collapses, kneeling by her side. All the stress and sorrow from the first moment aggregate into one. His eyes rain tears on the late Queen’s face, and somehow they dampen her skin, falling through her collar and leaving soaked marks on her blouse.

“Beloved…” He wants to hold her hand, but his body is only a mass of air. Dimitri tries to stay as close as possible, hands and face and body together, but they feel so far away, between a lifetime and another.

_Dimitri, it’s time to go back._ He hears Sothis calling for him.

_A moment please. Just a little bit longer._

_People are waiting for you. Your people, in the timeline that you belong to now._

And without another word, Dimitri drops into darkness once more.


	3. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cornelia has her own plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigod, almost 1k hits and 100 kudos? I love you guys. Thank you so much for supporting! Last chapter received so many comments. I feel like a superstar haha.  
> I always wonder what happens to the old timeline when a person joins another. Perhaps that was inspired by Lucas’ passing.
> 
> I mentioned we would have Felix in action this chapter, but… I guess next chapter.
> 
> And I realized I kept misspelling Gustave’s name…
> 
> Trigger warning: violence

Cold. So cold.

When Dimitri wakes up again, the freezing temperature takes up all of his senses, but he is a prince who has spent his entire life in the frigid Faerghus. Maybe that’s from his time travel, seeing his children covered in blood and Dedue’s death and Byleth’s motionless body.

_Who did it?_

His life has been constantly throwing cruel jokes at him. When he assumes he’s finally out of the mire, the abyss swallows him whole—his family, once more.

Dimitri realizes he’s lying on a cot dampened by whatever is dripping down from the ceiling. Somehow this is all so familiar, a distant memory from the future—

He’s in the dungeon of Castle Fhirdiad, and in the same jail cell Cornelia threw him in five years into the future.

What a life.

“Good morning, princeling, I’m surprised how all you think about is something else,” Dimitri hears Sothis saying, “when you yourself are already in dire situation.”

“My wife and children are not s _omething else_.” Dimitri slowly gets up from the cot, “How long have I been here?”

“Three days. They put you in here right after Gustave found you, Glenn, and whoever was left among the knights.”

_What?_ “Who ordered it?”

“Well, I didn’t get to see. Just use your brain.”

_So this is the goddess, Protector of Faerghus, doing absolutely nothing._

“I can hear you.”

Dimitri doesn’t apologize.

Who else can throw him into the jail? _Cornelia._ Of fucking course.

His bleeding has stopped—apparently, whoever got him here still care about his life and cared to send a healer. The bandage is clean with no visible blood.

“I guess they’re not going to execute me if they don’t want me to bleed to death,” Dimitri says. At least this is better than his last time here, and nobody is going to take his right eye away. But everything is in parallel. Last time he was accused of murdering his uncle, this time he’s here as the suspect of his father’s murder.

But in his last life, they did suspect him too, right? Why imprisoning him this time?

“They just don’t have enough reason to let you die right now, but someone else’s life is in danger.”

“Who?” Dimitri then sees another two in the same cell as he. Dedue has been staring and listening to him talking to the air. It’s okay. It’s Dedue. Dedue deals with all of his shit, more than he himself will ever know of.

But Glenn, still covered in blood, lies unconscious. His burns on the right arm are neglected, festering without healing. The basic emergency treatment during battle is not enough to prevent infection. His face and hair are all sweaty. Dimitri touches his forehead—he’s burning and dehydrated.

_Those dastards._

“Sothis, can you do something?”

“Unfortunately, without being in Byleth’s body, there’s nothing I can do.”

“You are the fucking _goddess_.”

“Well thank you for the reminder,” Sothis says sarcastically. “If I channel my power through you, you’ll be totally roasted, and then die, like melted butter. Byleth is my only vessel. You’re not.”

“But he will die of dehydration!”

“They left a jar of water when I got here.” Dedue says quietly, cutting off his conversation with the air. “Gustave managed to get food and water for us, but he didn’t show up today. His father…” Dedue gestures at Glenn, “I heard him arguing with the guards, but he couldn’t get in.”

Dimitri can see some efforts were made to patch up Glenn’s wound, and he himself is still moving just fine after three days of slumber. He should’ve learned how to heal, and now Dimitri regrets all of his decisions in the past timeline. “You’ve been taking care of us, Dedue?”

He doesn’t need the answer, because it’s so obvious. Dedue continues staring at him, puzzled, then looks down. “How do you know my name?”

Dimitri can hear the goddess laughing at the back of his head. He wonders if Sothis has been this obnoxious with Byleth, and he feels bad.

Before Dimitri can mutter an answer, Dedue asks again, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

_Yes. When I was haunted by the ghosts of my family and ran to the garden in the middle of the night, screaming and crying in snow, you found me and put a cloak on my shoulders. You were the most stubborn person in this world. When I lost all sleep, spending the entire night in the training ground breaking mannequins, you followed me everywhere until I went back to my room._

_And you died in my stead, right in this cell, fought for my chance to live, and came back from the dead years later to protect me yet again, protect my children. Until your last breath, keeping your oath as a knight._

“I don’t think we’ve met,” says Dimitri, despite his heartbreak.

He is surprised how Dedue can look at him in the eyes. That’s something he had to correct for years until the vassal felt comfortable enough in his last lifetime. He likes how he addresses him without titles, but… the old Dedue didn’t either, until the court taught him to properly address royalty.

Dimitri goes to the bars, ignoring how hunger leaves his legs shaky. “GUARDS!” he shouts, “ **GUARDS**!”

To think that these very guards—the accomplices to Cornelia’s crime in his past life, appear before him, Dimitri almost lets out a laugh. What a day, what a life to meet these traitors once more, whose loyalty can be bought and swayed by money and power.

To think that he once believed these were the people protecting him—after the war, Dimitri ordered to block the entrance to the dungeon, banning any form of imprisonment without trial. Byleth, on the other hand, replaced all of the palace guards with only trusted men from their war battalions, going over everyone’s profile again and again.

“So, did she sentence Sir Glenn to death? Leaving him in this state, ignored?” somehow, Dimitri is eerily calm. His tone, however, is with that of a predator, ready to feast.

“My apologies, Your Highness, but Lady Cornelia…” the guard leader hesitates.

“So you know I am still your prince, and yet we are kept in here, not knowing what crimes we committed.” Dimitri takes of his gloves, both hands on bars. He feels insulted. These bars aren’t even magically enhanced like five years into the future. How Cornelia underestimates him, thinking him as a young timid prince without claws. Maybe he should thank that woman for belittling a lion.

Dimitri bends the iron bars like pieces of dough, ignoring the gasps from both Dedue and the guards. He leaps out of the cell in a dash, disarming one guard and taking over his sword.

“Don’t kill anyone,” Sothis warns him.

“I know.” Dimitri kicks the guard leader on his knee. The leader loses his balance and falls. It’s way too easy. Dimitri takes a mental note that he should train the palace guards better, if he decides to keep them for now.

The young prince keeps him in place with a foot on his chest, sword against his throat. The rest of the guards all freeze on their spot, not knowing what to do.

“Your Highness—” the guard being pushed on the floor mutters, almost like begging.

Dimitri doesn’t know what he looks like right now. Maybe that primal beast in a smaller body. Probably scary. He doesn’t care if his princely mask’s slipped. He needs to get Glenn and Dedue out of here.

“Here I give you two choices. I can slay you one by one here, painting the walls with your brain, spilling blood from that scrawny body of yours and decorating the floor with your limbs. Or—” Dimitri presses the edge a bit more into his flesh, drawing drops of blood, “we walk out of these cells, bring Sir Glenn to a healer, and I will see Cornelia myself. Let’s see, what will you choose?”

Dedue watches him, eyes wide.

\-------

Dimitri carries Glenn on his back, walking silently through the corridors. Someone wants to guide him to the infirmary. Ridiculous. Trying to tell him where to go when _he_ is the master of this castle.

Glenn has almost burned his clothes on fire when they get to the healers. His fever is getting worse. The healers and physicians are first appalled, and then, deterred by the prince’s murderous gaze, start working on the dying patient without daring to say a word.

He finally collapses into a chair nearby. Dedue follows him into the corner of the room, standing nearby. Dimitri is tired, so tired. Even the days in the past life when he didn’t sleep at all feel better, not to mention he just woke up from a three-day slumber. Maybe it’s because he’s too young. Maybe he’s just adjusting to a new life. Maybe grief.

The prince has lost track of time because of imprisonment. It’s pitch black outside, snow and ice covered half of the windows.

He’s drifting into sleep when Rodrigue slams the door open, eyes widened with tears when seeing Dimitri. “Your Highness, thank the goddess, you’re alright. We heard about the fighting down there and there was so much blood and…”

Dimitri blinks. He is alive in this world, and yet Gronder is still so vivid in his memories. That man gave him his life.

“Please, Rodrigue,” the prince suddenly feels ashamed of himself. The Fraldarius is their shield, generations after generations, as if the shield isn’t human first of all. The Blaiddyds have been taking so much away from that family.

Rodrigue’s son is dying there, and yet this man sees the prince first out of everything. He thinks of how Rodrigue mourned for his first son in the past life. Maybe men take things for granted until they lose them, even if it’s their son.

But Dimitri is too exhausted to argue. He needs to save all of his energy for the potential enemies. Before he can say anything about Glenn, a small figure darts in and across the room, throwing himself over the wounded knight’s bed.

“Felix! Your brother is wounded!” Rodrigue drags the boy away from the bed. Then the Duke leaves him aside, speaking quietly with the healers, as if Felix doesn’t exist in the room.

As always, in the Duke’s eyes, Dimitri first, then Glenn, and Felix the last. Dimitri turns his head, having no courage to look at Felix.

_“We don’t have the luxury for you to be childish, Felix.”_

_“Here we go again, old man. Calling me childish, irresponsible, all you want.”_

_That was a night at Garreg Mach. He spent his afternoon comforting Ashe, who had yet to recover from Lonato’s death. Gilbert refused to talk to Annette, who had been crying all day, so Dimitri and Byleth were taking turns keeping her company. Sylvain pretended he was alright after they were given the mission of Miklan. He could fool everyone, but never Ingrid and him. Dimitri spent his evening reading with the redhead, making sure he didn’t go on another sexual adventure to alleviate his pain. That would be unhealthy._

_Dimitri was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. As always. When he arrived at the training ground, with the gate ajar, he heard the father and son._

_“Then enlighten me. You asked your professor to keep me away from you, lying to me because you—”_

_“If this is about the ceremony to announce me as the official heir, then I don’t have anything to talk about. You’re only wasting my time. I am here to train.”_

_“Felix.”_

_Dimitri realized it’s something he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on. He tried his best to be quiet, turning away from the column he’d been hiding behind, and heard—_

_“You don’t want me as your heir. Just admit it. You want me to become your dead son, pretending he never died. As if you can still relive that dream of having a gallant prodigy as your first-born. As if I can be a true knight. As if I died in his stead and things could’ve been better that way.”_

_There was only silence in response. Felix sneered, “Regret. Just live in your eternal guilt and regret. You never cared about us, not even Glenn. The boar is your son. The dead king was—”_

_Felix couldn’t finish his sentence because Rodrigue just threw a vicious punch at his face. The young Fraldarius side stepped and tackled the Duke on the ground, dust and sand throwing into the air. Dimitri wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. He wanted to stop Felix, but he can’t._

_He was too guilty._

_It sounded like Felix let his father go, when Dimitri heard a faint sob from Rodrigue._

_“Weak and pathetic,” Felix picked up his sword from the ground, turning to look at his father one last time. “You plant a lemon tree, you get lemons, no matter how hard you try to turn the sour fruit into something else.”_

_He paused, and Dimitri felt his glare even behind the column._

_“You raise a boar, and he will always be a monster.”_

_Dimitri took his run, not caring if Rodrigue could see him._

He hopes Sitri never feels mistreated, as the second born and, not to mention, Crestless.

Dimitri opens his eyes. Young Felix stands in another corner, trying to have a peek into the curtains that provides Glenn privacy, but he’s too scared. Too lost. Too young to process everything that has happened. The sudden tragedy and regicide. The imprisonment of his brother, and now all the blood and bandages and worried healers…

Rodrigue said they went to the dungeon. Felix must have seen the blood there. He trembles in his small form, too scared to even shed a drop of tear.

Dimitri sees himself in Felix, that broken boy after the King’s death.

He stands up, going over to Felix,. Felix nearly jumps when Dimitri throws his blue cape over the smaller boy’s shoulders. He can’t tell the raven boy’s expression, something beyond fear and disgust. More likely a realization.

“Felix, come here.” Dimitri gestures Felix to take his armchair, but the other boy doesn’t move. Dimitri sighs. He pushes the chair to Felix’s corner, and stays on a bench instead.

The night continues. At some moment Dimitri thinks he’s asleep, but his mind just refuses to shut down and absorbs everything around him. When he opens his eyes again, it’s almost dawn, and the Glenn is not well. Rodrigue and the healers are arguing.

“Your Grace, the infection is killing him.”

“But that is his dominant arm! There must be something we can do.”

“If we don’t amputate that arm, Sir Glenn will die.”

Dimitri throws the curtain open, entering despite the healers’ protest. Felix has been curling up on his brother’s side, refusing to let go of his left arm. He sees Dimitri but doesn’t say a word.

Dimitri leans over Glenn’s face. The wounded knight’s breath is almost undetectable, chest unmoving. He thinks of Byleth’s body, and now the person he has to save is dying. Dimitri hates himself. He brings them the same fate every time, no matter which timeline they reside.

“Father. I need Glenn,” Felix suddenly says, almost imploring. “I need my brother. Please.”

“Felix, he is a knight first of all, and the glory—”

“But he’s our Glenn, Rodrigue…” Dimitri has had enough.

He can’t speak anymore. The tears choke him up.

Rodrigue collapses into the armchair, as if everything is lost.

_Ridiculous_ , Dimitri thinks. _As long as one is alive, everything still has a chance_.

Before the Duke comes to a decision, several guards come into the infirmary. “We are here to bring Prince Dimitri to the throne room.”

“On whose command?” asks Dimitri.

“Lord Rufus, Your Highness, and…” says one guard, “Lady Cornelia.”

\-------

Dimitri is on the brink of a breakdown. He wants to chop something. Anything. Human, preferably. Just bring that feral prince back, put him into a teenager’s body, and there you have it—a Dimitri on his way to meet Cornelia.

Portraits of his ancestors are looking at him, like ghosts who have been haunting him forever. The young version of him only just starts having those hallucinations. He can handle those visions, those voices, but he can’t handle his anger.

The gate to the throne room opens. Rufus sits on the chair in the middle. The chair made of ebony, ivory, and gold, which once belonged to his father and Dimitri himself, ten years into the future.

On his side, that pink woman with pink hair and pink lips and pink outfit, pink feathers sticking out of every part of her neck, a cruel and twisted smile on her face.

_Cornelia._

He can’t hold it back anymore. Dimitri lunges at her, but just before he can advance one more step, three guards push him down to the floor. His chest hurts as hell, blood spilling out of his mouth, and he’s choking—

“Like I told you, Rufus, this boy killed his father, and he is going to kill you.”

Dimitri passes out once again.

\-------

“ _What were you even thinking?!_ ”

Dimitri gets up from the floor, a hand clutching his chest. There’ still phantom pain in where the guard stabs. He’s back in that green room, a throne in front of him.

“She can’t get any evidence against you, so she tried to get something out of your anger! And the action you took fed her goal so well. _Bravo_ , princeling,” Sothis claps as if in a cheer, but her expressions tell him otherwise.

“I let my emotions get the best of me,” Dimitri shakes his head. He should’ve taken the young body into consideration. Unstable hormones. Too young, too irrational, too hard to control emotions. Also, failing to assess the environment before taking action. “But that woman…”

“That woman wants to take control of the kingdom, so she wants you dead. You just gave her a reason, attacking your uncle.”

“It was meant for her!”

“Well, they were together so, they can say whatever they want.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “She never imprisoned me in my last lifetime. She’s just so… outright obvious this time.”

Sothis twirls a strand of hair around her finger, “It’s different this time. You brought back Glenn and a bunch of knights, while she expected to eliminate all of the kingdom elites. You brought back 21 of villagers from Duscur. You’ve messed up her plan, Dimitri. That alone is enough to make you her target.”

“But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Huh?!” Sothis jumps up from the chair. “After all of my effort, you are giving up _now_?!”

Dimitri almost thinks the goddess is dumb. “That guard stabbed me, and I died again. What else can I do? I apologize for this situation, by the way.”

Sothis sighs and sits down, “Well, your reaction is totally different from Byleth. I guess that’s fair, because she was always so… blank, even when I gave her the Divine Pulse”

The goddess snaps her fingers, and the next moment, she’s standing in front of the prince.

“I am the beginning and the creator of time. I stopped the time before you actually died, and when I use a Pulse and turn back the hand of time, the door to the throne room will open again, and you will do things right.”

Dimitri blinks. _She really is the goddess_.

“So, my irrational action hasn’t happened when I get back there?”

“You will have to control yourself, princeling. Now, clear your mind before you go back.”

Sothis is right. He has to calm down and thinks first, convincing the 13-year-old brain that it needs to stay in control. Dimitri takes a deep breath, “Cornelia couldn’t find any evidence. She couldn’t prove that I committed regicide, but with the elite knights I brought back, they will always be loyal to me. The villagers may not ruin anything for her, but they trust me and can potentially be my allies. Our existence interferes with her plans.”

“So she wants you dead, but not Rufus yet. Why?”

Dimitri thinks for a moment. “Because I am the only legitimate heir, the only Blaiddyd still baring our Crest. Uncle Rufus may be the regent, but he will never be king, so he doesn’t really matter. Legitimacy is key, and my death will throw the kingdom into chaos, much like five years into the future.”

“And that’s her bad move,” Sothis declares.

“Why?”

“With the church on your back, not to mention so many noble houses still loyal to the throne, confining and imprisoning you will make her everyone’s first target. So you must use her mistake to your benefit, and learn from it.”

Dimitri ponders. He has been showing too much, too abnormal, with the skills and fights. He has made himself too obvious. “I will hide the skills passed down from my last life.”

“And don’t forget, you are just a 13-year-old boy. Play dumb from time to time. Maybe you can learn some from your redhaired friend. He’s surely an expert,” Sothis yawns and waves her hand. The same sigil appears. “Go now.”

\-------

Dimitri wants to throw up when the guards open the door. He pauses and blinks several times, getting control of his body, and walk into the throne room again.

“Uncle, Lady Cornelia,” Dimitri head bows to the two, doing everything to hide the fact that he’s gritting his teeth.

“Your Highness, I was notified of your behavior earlier and what happened during confinement. I am both shocked and horrified by your action, considering how you attacked your own man,” says Cornelia.

“With all due respect, Lady Cornelia, may I be notified first of what my charges are?”

“Nobody survived Duscur except you and the knights. That’s suspicious enough,” Rufus says.

“Uncle, if my memories served me right, to commit and imprison anyone from the royal household and from a high-ranking noble family, such as the Fraldarius, we would’ve been brought to the Court of Essex first, before any form of imprisonment takes place.”

_Hold on, princeling, you are being too logical here._

Right, 13-year-old boy who just lost his father. Dimitri takes a deep breath. He’s sure he will hate himself but… this is for Glenn, for Felix, and for meeting Byleth in this life. Dimitri squeezes some drops of tears to the corner of his eyes. “Uncle… I was so scared… I woke up and didn’t know where I was or… what’s going on. I just wanted to get out… to see you, my only family. After losing my father, I…”

_Good job_. Sothis giggles.

Dimitri ignores her. If he were asked to do this in the past life, he’d rather die than using the dead for politics. But he has to do it now, for the living.

He can see how flustered Rufus has got, just because of his words.

_Maybe praise him a little bit. Tell him how he can understand how gallant a Blaiddyd can be in danger, because he himself is a glorious Blaiddyd. Tell him you learned a lot from him._ Sothis says.

_No, I will not. I am a dignified person._ Although Dimitri abhors the idea to his guts, he still wears a neutral expression. Talking to someone in his head while doing the same to another actual person as if nothing wrong is going on has been his forte for, way too long.

“Well, our information says you were rather calm in Duscur. You killed the Duscur assassins without batting an eye, as if you had predicted what would happen next,” Cornelia frowns. Somehow when she frowns, that face twists into a creepy shape.

“It was rather shocking to me how I reacted. However, I guess the survival instinct kicked in after seeing… how my family was slaughtered. My father…” Dimitri has to pause for a second, for real, “sacrificed himself to protect me. I had to live, for my family and… for my country.”

Dimitri continues, “Lady Cornelia, you knew our situation in Duscur so well. I wonder who you learned from?”

Cornelia opens her mouth and closes. There is sudden fury in her eyes. She hides it well, but Dimitri has noticed.

_See? She doesn’t have any evidence against you, and she is making herself rather suspicious._ Sothis says.

\-------

The audience ends with a grumpy Cornelia and a Dimitri swearing to himself that he will one day kill this woman again.

He is allowed to resume daily life, but Glenn will be confined in the infirmary until further notice. When Dimitri goes back to see him, the unconscious knight only has one arm left.

Glenn wakes up two days later. He doesn’t say anything about the arm, just staring at the lack of it for a day. Felix refuses to leave his bedside until he collapses. Dimitri brings him back to his chambers.

They cuddle in bed that night. Dimitri misses this moment. He has been insulted and sneered and scoffed by that angry Felix for too many years. Sometimes he almost forgets how close they used to be when they were children.

Dimitri recalls the fear in Felix’s eyes when Dimitri approached with his cape. Was it because Glenn was dying?

Was it because he went to the dungeon with Rodrigue and saw the blood? Seeing what his friend, cuddling and hugging and playing with him all the time, can actually hurt that jail guard so bad?

Dimitri doesn’t want to dwell on the thought.

_Sothis, are you there?_

“Hm?”

_Byleth mentioned something about the Pulse. She said she ran out of it when the light attack happened._

“And?”

“Did she watch me die, lots of times that day?”

No response. That’s the confirmation Dimitri dreads.

_Did she see me… see us die many times before? During the war?_

“During the war, and Lonato, and Miklan, and the mausoleum. Too many times.”

Dimitri freezes. Felix is finally asleep in his arm, lightly snoring. Did she see Felix die, too? Sylvain? Ingrid? All of the Blue Lions?

_That’s probably why she never told me._ Dimitri sighs. He saw his father and everyone die in front of him once, and that’s enough to haunt him forever.

He was useless, once again, failing to help his wife cope with pain after all she had done for him.

Glenn was brought to the Court of Essex the next morning, for he failed to protect his liege and suspicion that he was involved in the regicide. Rodrigue is nowhere to be seen, probably with Glenn. Nobody tells them what’s going on. Even the Duke didn’t mention, if not comfort, anything to his second son. Felix stands in front of the window for an entire day, refusing water and food. Dimitri stays with him.

They send Glenn back before sunset. The nobles have been jealous of the Fraldarius’ power for too many years. Removing their heir is just a perfect idea. Ingrid’s father tried his best to persuade the noble houses that Glenn was innocent, not to mention he brought the crown prince back, but he failed to consolidate their stand.

The majority decided that Glenn Aeacus Fraldarius should be removed from the knights of Faerghus, and Glenn would be sent into exile until his death. They claimed it was magnanimous enough, but Dimitri wonders how he is going to live without his dominant arm. He also needs time for recovery.

But Dimitri is powerless in his current position.

Rodrigue disappears into his guest chambers when they return. Glenn’s expression is blank as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like my interpretation of Rodrigue. I always think there must be something going on in his house besides Glenn “died like a true knight” incident. Felix’s change of personality should be something that has accumulated, and when one thing triggers it, we have the angry Fraldarius boy.


	4. Young Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn sets off on his journey.  
> The nobles fight for power, but Dimitri and Byleth have already chosen a guardian for the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for supporting! Your kudos, subscriptions, and comments have made my self-quarantine time better!
> 
> So an early update, and longer than usual. And as you can see, I have updated the tags.  
> I may not be able to update next week. Midterm projects coming up. I will try to do a short update, but not 100% sure.
> 
> Part of this chapter is inspired by this art!  
> [Uncle Cwaude!](https://twitter.com/HollyFig/status/1202380838027091970?s=20)
> 
> Trigger warning: violence, mental health issues, homophobia, ableism
> 
> Note added on 9/28: I will update every Sunday starting next week. It fits my schedule better.

“Alexandre,” Dimitri hears a soft voice. “Wake up, my love.”

His eye flutters open, finding a very amused Byleth standing in front of him. Alex sleeps peacefully in his arms, while Sitri has found his right shoulder very comfortable and decided to dangle up there, drooling trails of saliva on her father’s shirt, and strands of blond hair stick on her cheeks.

A storybook he apparently was reading has slipped from his left hand, dropped on the floor. It was a gift from Ashe.

He blinks, and blinks, and blinks. Where is he? Dimitri looks around and realizes he is in the nursery, only one eye with vision. Lucas, who was snoring by his feet, wakes up to Byleth’s voice. He looks quite excited, wagging his long fluffy tail and whipping Dimitri’s calf.

“Beloved—” Dimitri beckons shakily. Maybe that really was a bad dream, losing everyone and getting sent back. Maybe he has finally woken up, back to the reality where his loved ones wait for him to awake from sleep, waiting for him at home.

“Shh, don’t wake up the babies.” Byleth carefully picks up Sitri from his shoulder, speaking with her lips. The girl stirs in her sweet dreams, whining softly. Byleth coos at the girl, rocking her gently just in case she wakes up again. Lucas follows her, but he has all his eyes on Sitri, as if the Blaiddyd Rex is her guardian angel.

Though Dimitri claims proudly that he has the best children of all Fódlan, putting the twins to bed is a battle: You coax your enemies with decoy (Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex and stuffed lion toys made by Felix, _Felix_ ), fighting them into submission (loving back pats and gentle rocking), and finally using words to persuade them (reading stories).

Oh, and don’t forget to avoid distractions. Unlike a normal battle where you want your enemies to get distracted, in this battle, your enemies need their utter concentration on one thing—falling asleep.

_Please, Uncle Claude, please don’t laugh so obnoxiously. It is already past bedtime for the children. I apologize for the inconvenience as such for an honorable guest like you, but please save all your shenanigans for Almyra._

Wait. Claude?

Dimitri remembers telling Claude so but… wasn’t that years ago? When the twins were one year old? He made a diplomatic visit as the new King of Almyra?

He is confused, but no matter. He is home now.

The royal couple wraps the twins with two blankets Claude brought from Almyra, weaved with the highest quality wool and dyed in yellow, black, green, and a dash of red, the typical Almyran colors.

Dimitri takes a look at the children one more time. His blond children melt his heart. It seems like a lifetime to finally be able to see Alex and Sitri again, thanks to that stupid nightmare, and he really wants to see their eyes—those pure, lovely blue eyes, looking up at him with a smile.

Later. When they are awake.

The older maids in the castle say Alex looks like a copy of Dimitri, but he admits he is a bit disappointed that none of them inherited Byleth’s eyes or hair. If they tried again, would they be blue hair or green hair? Dimitri will never know, because he doesn’t want Byleth to go through pregnancy and labor again.

But Sitri does seem to have Byleth’s chin and eye shape, though it’s too early to tell.

Before closing the door, Byleth turns to Lucas, who is standing in between the two toddler beds, closer to Sitri’s side. “You coming with us or no?”

Lucas lies down comfortably on his side, letting out a long sigh. “Okay, be good in there.” Byleth smiles.

Dimitri and Byleth both let out a long relieving breath in the hallway.

“Nice good nap?” Byleth grins.

Although they have a team of nannies and a castle full of maids, although raising children can sometimes be so tiring, Dimitri and Byleth still keep a routine of parenting, no matter how busy the King and Queen/Archbishop are.

At the beginning, it seemed only Byleth had the charm to coo them into sleep, and Dimitri only got the children more excited. It was a _nightmare_ the first couple of times Byleth had to travel back to Garreg Mach, but Dimitri got better. Eventually he realized that, not only the children will fall asleep, he too. No nightmares, only the sweet scent of milk and baby lotion that lulls him to a dreamless sleep.

But many times, he fell asleep before the children did, too.

“It was nice,” Dimitri yawns with a back stretch. No matter how good that nap was, sleeping in an armchair with one kid dangling on his shoulder while holding another one has made his back protest. “So I can be refreshed enough to be a good host.”

“Claude can be a bit… too much.” Byleth laughs. They are finally speaking in their normal voice once they’ve reached the end of the hallway, far enough from the nursery. They walk down the stairs and find Claude standing in the corner, grinning at them.

“I was thinking about paying a visit to my niece and nephew before they went to bed, Your Kingliness. Are they asleep?”

“Fortunately, yes,” Dimitri says. “They are quite fond of your blanket.”

“I’m glad! At first Alex kept chewing the pom-pom, so I was worried he was gonna eat the whole thing. At least we’re sure he will grow some healthy teeth.”

Pom-pom. Dimitri finds it strangely hilarious to hear the former Alliance leader saying that word.

“Well, he is better than Lucas. Goddess knows how many leather gloves that puppy destroyed,” Byleth says, equally amused.

“Beloved—are you comparing our child to Lucas?”

“Yes, Dimitri, but Lucas doesn’t have the strength that runs in the royal family. Lucas doesn’t punch Uncle _Cwaude_ and break his nose.”

They laugh. Claude loves holding the twins a lot, and the twins love Uncle “Cwaude,” as they call him. But they forgot that children at this age love poking and pulling so much. The first time Alex activated his Crest, Claude was the unfortunate witness of his Blaiddyd strength. He still managed to hold the boy even with a bloody broken nose.

Dimitri appreciated that the Almyran King only cursed in his native language.

They sit around a table in the garden. The weather in June feels nice.

Dimitri and Claude talk about trade routes after the three have spent quite some time debating politics and religion. Then they get a bit tired, comfortable silence falls on the old friends.

“Have you ever thought about making a will? My advisors have been giving me an earful.” Claude suddenly asks.

_That_ issue, as how Dimitri and Byleth refer to. It is way too early for the royal couple to think about death (although the ghosts keep reminding Dimitri how he escaped his), so it is only a contingency plan, and an absolute pain.

“Yes.” Dimitri sips his tea.

Just to think about how to redistribute power and status and titles and estates and land and money and all the things he never even heard of, not to mention all the consequences to consider and ramifications to avoid, Dimitri would rather jump into the boiling lava in Ailell. But he and Byleth has to at least decide on one matter, the most important matter just in case.

“We only decided on one thing.”

“Is it about the surrogate parent?”

The sunset leaves its orange hue on the castle, shining on Dimitri’s eye. He closes it, nods, and opens his eye again.

“It will be—”

Dimitri jerks awake. A maid is shaking his shoulder. The raven-haired boy already woke up next to him.

“Your Highness, you need to get up. Sir Glenn is leaving today.”

\-------

Sothis was right. Seeing his family even as a dream hurts him, as if mocking his failure as a king, a father, and a husband. All adds up to the depressing day of Glenn’s exile.

It is unheard of for a knight to be banned from his liege’s funeral.

Essex failed to convict Glenn of regicide, but the nobles decided to humiliate the Fraldarius to the end, as if an exile was simply not enough. Dimitri heard his crimes were “malicious ideation of regicide and […] manipulation of the royal family members,” along with “violation of the Chivalry Code of Faerghus.”

Being incriminated in “ideation.” It may as well become one of the most ridiculous textbook level cases for legal studies. Dimitri Just wonders how more absurd the nobles can be.

All of Glenn’s family and friends stand near the city gate. The snow stopped yesterday but blocked all the major roads. Glenn has a rein in hand, two sacks on the horse’s back, and a bag on his back. His sword is still tied to the former knight’s waist, but nobody wants to poke the question: How is Glenn going to fight without his dominant arm?

Rodrigue is double-checking his things, making sure he has enough medication for the road. He still has a fever, and the noble houses are already urging him to leave. Glenn seems to have had enough, so he didn’t even complain and started packing.

“I have checked, Father. The healers helped me,” says Glenn.

“They told me these to concoctions are hard to find. If you ever need money, Glenn, we—”

“We have gold stored in Enbarr and the Gloucester territories. Yes, Father. You have sent them letters. I present them my birth documents and they will hand me the coins I need.” Glenn cuts him off. Apparently Rodrigue has reminded him more than Glenn needs.

“Are you sure you won’t bring anyone with you? The Fraldarius knights…”

“I won’t drag anyone else into this. I will be fine, Father.”

“And if you ever need anything from us, we will meet at Garreg Mach,” says Rodrigue. Although Dimitri is still angry about the Church doing nothing, but at least they abstained in Essex.

“I’ll remember.”

Sylvain looks sad. Ingrid, standing in between Felix and Dimitri, made it to Fhirdiad last night. She tries her best not to cry. Glenn turns to his fiancée, half crouching down to meet her eyes.

They dwelled in melancholy until Glenn finally manages to mutter something, almost silent. “I’m sorry.”

“Take me with you.”

“I— I can’t. You belong to your family. Your father and siblings need you.”

“I need you! I belong to your side, Glenn… Take me with you, please. Just bring me along—”

“Ingrid, listen to me,” Glenn brings her left hand to his chest, grabbing it tightly, one finger lightly touching her engagement ring, “You belong to Fearghus, where I can’t even return ever again. It’s not fair for you.”

And when he lets go of her hand, Ingrid finds the ring she gifted him in her palm. “What… what is the meaning of this?”

“You can’t marry a person who is in exile, Ingrid.”

Long silence.

Dimitri looks away. Felix lowers his head and tries very hard to stop crying. Ingrid can’t hold her tears anymore.

“Glenn, please, don’t do this to me—”

“I met your father the other day. I had to end our engagement. It is just not fair to…”

“How can you do such a thing?!” Ingrid screams, “Do you think I care? There is no way my father—”

“And he agreed, for your sake,” Glenn says.

Ingrid’s sobs turn into bawling. “I won’t do it. It’s not over for me.” She barely stares at the ring before pushing it back to Glenn’s hands, holding on to the engagement ring on her finger, “If you don’t want it, throw it away.”

And before anyone can say or do anything, she turns and runs off, unable to look at him anymore.

Glenn clutches his left hand, clenching his jaws so hard that veins appear on his forehead. He doesn’t follow Ingrid. He can’t.

Dimitri closes his eyes. _Glenn, don’t you understand? Ingrid stayed single for you all the time. She refused all the proposals, and she never took off that ring you gave her. She loved you, and you know you love her. It hasn’t changed even in another timeline._

_The love of your life stood right there in front of you, and you chose to hurt her on the day you leave._

“But what else can he do?” Dimitri hears Sothis yawns a question. She sounds really sleepy.

_Tell her he loves her. Tell her he will come back to her no matter what. Because he will._

“Please,” it takes a few seconds for Dimitri to realize Glenn is speaking to him, “take care of her for me.”

“I will, for now, but when I am King, I will bring you back. And you will take care of her yourself then.”

Glenn gives him a faint smile. Dimitri knows that smile too well— _I appreciate it, but I don’t think it’s possible_.

“Yeah. You take care too, Lil Mitri.”

Dimitri almost forgot, after so many years, that while he was Dima to all of his childhood friends, this endearment belonged to Glenn. Only Glenn.

And he is leaving now.

Dimitri goes over and hugs Glenn tightly, who returns with one arm. “Damn, I guess I can’t hug anyone properly anymore.”

“You’re making fun of that?!” Dimitri shakes his head in disbelief.

Glenn only grins and turns to Felix. “Hey, Fe.”

Felix only sobs, not even able to bring his head up to look at Glenn. “Felix, do you want to talk to your brother?” Rodrigue asks gently.

But the young Fraldarius boy can’t say a word when he is choked with tears. Glenn embraces him with one arm, resting his chin on the crown of his head. Slowly, Felix brings his arms around Glenn, head buried in his chest.

Dimitri spares a glance towards a bush and nods. Liam, hiding over there, gives him a thumbs up. He has asked the holy knight to follow Glenn.

When Glenn hugs Sylvain, the redhaired only has one question. “Where are you going?”

“Derdriu sounds like a nice place.”

Dimitri blinks and before he can stop himself, “There is a famous healer in Derdriu living near the Rose Garden. He only sees two patients a day. The hot spring on the other side of the street is known for its healing qualities. Last time I…”

_Last time I was there, Byleth dragged me to the bath no matter how much I hated the heat, but it did help with my injuries after the battle saving Claude._

Glenn raises an eyebrow, “Sounds like you’ve been there.”

“Well, I…” Dimitri clears his throat, thanking his brain for remembering to shut up, “read from a book.”

“Huh.”

Sylvain shrugs. “Well, if you came across that dragon, let us know.”

“ _Dragon_ ,” Dimitri repeats.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t heard? Thought I told you.” Sylvain frowns. “People have been talking about a dragon flying around.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just rumor. Dragons don’t exist.” Glenn says.

Yes, they do. Rhea turned into one during the Battle of Garreg Mach, right before she and Byleth both disappeared.

Maybe that’s just Rhea? Dimitri tries to confirm with Sothis but receives no response. He searches everywhere in his mind and finds the goddess sleeping on her throne.

_Lazy goddess. Sleeping again._

Dimitri gets his attention back to the real world. Glenn goes over to give Rodrigue a hug. His father hugs him back as if it is the end of the world. “It’s alright. It’s not like you won’t be able to see me.”

He pats Dimitri on his back, rubs Felix’s hair for the last time, and swings the bag over his shoulder. “Go back to the castle. It’s cold outside,” Glenn gets on the horse with some difficulty, still trying to figure out how to live with only one arm. His body shakes a little bit, obviously weak. Dimitri clenches his fists. _Glenn needs time to recover_.

And whoever decided to set Glenn up will pay.

The former knight kicks the horse and sets off his journey. When it is too far away to see his trail, Felix leaves his father’s grip, suddenly starting to run, trying to chase his older brother.

“Glenn!! Don’t go! _Please don’t go_!”

He trips and falls, kneeling and begging for his brother’s return.

Sylvain tries to comfort him. Rodrigue brings him into his arms. Felix squirms and kicks and tries to fight his father off, but his brother is already nowhere to be seen.

Dimitri closes his eyes and lets out a long painful breath. When his eyes open again, the young prince sees Gustave standing nearby.

Rodrigue and Sylvain are too far away to hear the conversation. “I know you are planning to leave,” says Dimitri, not even turning to look at the conflicting knight.

Gustave is caught off guard, mouth agape, not sure what to say.

“I can’t tell you what to do or what not to. Even if I order it, your heart only belongs to wherever you want it to be. However, after seeing how Glenn’s exile affects his family and friends…” Dimitri pauses, “if you still want to leave, want to escape, want the so-called redemption, then you are a coward, and a monster.”

Dimitri spins on his heel, not giving Gustave a chance to speak, but when he is facing the city gate, the prince sees some familiar figures.

Felix, in his late 20s, getting off a horse. Felix, with a _horse_. Sylvain follows him.

They’ve only brought six Fraldarius knights with two Fhirdiad messengers dragged along, who look they’re about to die. It seems they’ve been trying to get to Castle Fhirdiad as fast as possible that a knight’s horse faints when they stop. It is raining heavily.

“Goddess, I can’t believe we really made it in three days,” Sylvain gives his horse to a stableman, but his newlywed husband has disappeared behind the gate.

_Three days? Usually it takes six from Fraldarius to Fhirdiad._

“Sylvain—” Dimitri beckons, but then the Margrave and all the knights disappear. Dry wind replaces the rain. Standing near the gate are the castle guards and Dedue, who has been following him everywhere since their return.

Is he actually seeing the other timeline?

\-------

Dimitri is all blank during his father’s funeral, in the very chapel that he has been in for two lifetimes. He and his father once stood in front of his birth mother’s casket, although he was too young to remember the details. He witnessed Lambert and Patricia’s wedding, when everybody was still hopeful and happy. Then Glenn’s knighting ceremony, whose funeral took place here two years later, right after Lambert’s.

And then Byleth and his wedding, after returning from his coronation at Garreg Mach.

_See, my son. Nothing will change. Everything will, in the end, return to the beginning._

Dimitri hears his father’s voice once again. Ghosts of his dead family, even in the past, had begun to haunt him ever since the Tragedy when he was still a child. They are always here, following him everywhere, never able to escape even though it’s already another world.

_Please, Father. I love you. I’ve avenged you. Don’t do this to me—_

The crown prince closes his eyes and sees the dead body of Glenn, with two arms—just that his moving, looking at him with hollow, bleeding eyes. The Glenn who died in Duscur.

_See what your family has done to me, Dimitri. You’ve ruined me, once again._

_Please, please. I will bring the Glenn of this world back._ Dimitri pleas silently.

_Yeah? Then what about_ this _Glenn? This Glenn who gave his life for you?_

Dimitri wants to vomit. His head is about to explode, headache worse than ever. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Byleth, _his Byleth_ , lying on the stairs in front of his father’s casket. Dressing in white, hem of the skirt to her ankle—the one they put on her after her death. Drops of blood dripping from the corner of the late Queen’s lips. She’s not moving, eyes slightly open but unresponsive to anything happening around her.

That is when Dimitri collapses to the floor. He is still conscious, but the world around him seems so far away. Rodrigue, who has been mourning his liege and best friend in silent tears, seems to be yelling something when he rushes to Dimitri’s side. Gustave manages to support the young prince’s body, shaking his shoulders and saying things he can’t hear anymore.

“Hey, hey! Princeling!” Sothis awakens in the chaos, yelling at Dimitri, “Whatever your head is doing, snap it out!”

Dimitri doesn’t respond. He can’t. He sees Alex and Sitri, right in front of him. He recognizes several people at the front row of the pews. The Lions, with a soaked Felix and Sylvain, who didn’t get the time to change into black attire, and Claude who has obviously rushed to Fhirdiad.

Rhea is speaking at the altar. The twins are kneeling in front of two caskets, in which he sees his own body and then Byleth’s, covered in white roses.

“Alex, Si… Sitr…”

And he passes out once more in the older knight’s arms, Sothis screaming at him in his head.

_Ten days into this world, and how many times have I fainted?_

\-------

Dimitri is pretty sure he goes back to the old timeline once again, as a ghost, though he can’t figure out how, because this time Sothis didn’t grant him the access.

The twins sob silently in front of his parents. Dimitri wants to hold them, telling them it’s going to be alright, and he will always be there, but he can’t. No matter how hard he tries to touch his children, his body is only air, and his words inaudible in the old lifetime. He just stays there, watching Alex and Sitri crying for their lost family.

His mind is entirely blank, not noticing the funeral has ended until Rhea clears her throat. The nobles are about to leave when the former archbishop stops them.

“I have an announcement,” her voice is still ethereal, too demure and dignified as Dimitri remembers. “For the time being, I will carry out the duties as the leader of the Church of Seiros, until the next messenger of the goddess is presented. The Church has decided to give Archbishop Eisner-Blaiddyd a proper burial in the holy tomb—”

_No, you can’t. You can’t separate us._

Dimitri wants to scream, all of his voices muffled by an invisible shield that keeps him from entering that world. Alex and Sitri’s eyes widen, beginning to understand what is going on around them.

Claude gives an expression as if saying “Of course this is happening.”

But before Rhea can finish speaking, Sylvain already stands up, “Are you saying you are going to separate the couple from each other? When they are supposed to be resting together?!”

“It is our respect to all the deceased archbishops, Margrave Gautier, and the tradition of…”

“Then show us the tombs of the other archbishops. Where are they?”

Rhea opens her mouth but clearly loses all the words. Not a single grave in the holy tomb belongs to an archbishop. Dimitri remembers.

Ingrid steps in, “With all due respect, Lady Rhea, we cannot separate Her Majesty from her children. She was the Archbishop, the Chosen One, yes, but she was a mother, a Blaiddyd. She belongs here, with her loved ones, resting in the place she once called home.”

“The monastery is her home,” somehow, the blond knight’s words only put the iconic smile back on Rhea’s face. “I assure you, brothers and sisters, Archbishop Eisner-Blaiddyd will not leave her family. I have reason to believe that our mother Sothis has brought us a new messenger…”

Rhea directs her gaze to Sitri, who flinches subconsciously. Seteth gasps, never expecting this coming, “Rhea! What are you doing?”

But the former Archbishop pays him no heed, “I have decided to escort Princess Sitri to the monastery, where she will receive her education and training…”

Seteth tries to stop her, “Rhea!”

Annette is on the blink of tears, “No, this is just unfair!”

“…until she is prepared to take up the title as Archbishop. Meanwhile—”

A thud, someone has pushed a bench to the ground. Ashe—Dimitri thinks— _of all people_ , jumps up from his seat, voice raising, “Are you even serious?! Does it mean you are just going to take her away from her only family, after Dedue…”

“It is her destiny, her fate, Lord Ashe. A gift granted by the goddess hers—”

_Bullshit._

“Then prove it! Would the actual goddess of Fódlan try to steal away a three-year-old just to get her groomed into her speaker—”

“Lord Ashe…”

“Or are you trying to benefit yourself, just like how you killed Christophe?!” Ashe’s face is all red, anger filling up every corner.

People gasp. Even the Lions have not seen this coming. Gilbert musters something inaudible, head low, saying a silent prayer. Mercedes’ face turns all white, “Ashe, you can’t…”

“Of course I can! I can say whatever I want to the former archbishop. She is no longer the speaker of the goddess after Her Majesty ascended. Maybe she never was. She may execute me just like she executed my adoptive father and brother—”

“This is absolute blasphemy, Lord Ashe, in this holy place—” a minor lord from House Ascania seems to totally abhor the new Lord of Gaspard.

But Gilbert shakes his head, “Speaking of blasphemy, my lord, when was the last time you came to the monastery, or even pray?”

“This is irrelevant to…”

“Lord Ashe was being himself in front of the goddess, my lord, hiding nothing but being true,” Gilbert says.

“Gilbert, are you standing against the goddess?” Rhea demands an answer.

“Lady Rhea, forgive me if I don’t understand. I am forever a child of our Creator, but I am also a knight of Faerghus. It is my duty to protect the crown prince and the princess, and to respect the will of my liege and his wife. They would not have approved this arrangement for Her Highness.”

Claude finally speaks, “Where is the will, though? King Dimitri mentioned he had made arrangements years ago, and why are we not seeing—”

“King Claude, are you trying to interfere with our Fódlan affairs here? Is that your intention when coming to the funeral?” the lord from House Salian scoffs.

“I assure you, if I ever wanted to meddle in _your_ kingdom affairs, you wouldn’t know,” Claude sends him a sharp glare. How dare he taint his friendship with Dimitri and Byleth?

Another minor lord changes the direction. “But what will happen to Prince Alexandre? Who will take care of him, if Princess Sitri will leave for the monastery…”

His question even irritates Mercedes. The sweet, calm priestess pulls the twins into her arms, “Princess Sitri _will not_ go anywhere, Lady Rhea.”

“I am deeply disappointed, Sister Mercedes, after trusting you for years—” Rhea shakes her head.

“Are you accusing Mercie of trying to care for a child?!” Annette yells at the former archbishop.

“Annette, be courteous.” Her father admonishes quietly but doesn’t attempt to stop her.

“This is for the best of Fódlan.”

The redhaired Margrave’s eyes widen, finding the argument ridiculous. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait for a second here.”

Seteth speaks up as if in great pain “Lady Rhea, you cannot separate the princess from her only family.”

“I do agree Lady Rhea’s decision conforms with everyone’s common interests, and it is the royal family members’ duty to sacrifice for their people,” another minor lord jumps in. “I suggest that we select a number of houses to be the guardians of Prince Alexandre. A Crestless royal such as the princess is better off leaving the castle and—”

_This is ugly_. Dimitri strangles the lord but his hand clutches into nothing.

Darkness suddenly looms over Sylvain’s face, the iconic grin turning dangerous. Felix, who has been silent the entire time, puts a reassuring hand on his back. Claude, as if knowing what’s going to happen, tries to drag him back, but Felix gets around his grip, marching towards the minor lord.

“Say that one more time?” says Felix.

Not knowing his situation, the minor lord clears his throat, “A Crestless royal family member such as the princess will make no contribution to the Kingdom, as it was proved by Lord Regent and King Lambert’s…”

Felix suddenly unsheathes his sword, pointing his blade at the minor lord’s throat, voice menacing. “Here I thought the dead emperor was a monster, and now I’ve found a demon. Even worse.”

As everyone’s attention is focused on the Duke, Dimitri realizes Claude and Gilbert are nowhere to be seen, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that.

“Heavens! Did he bring a weapon into the chapel?!” the lord from House Ascania says, shakily pointing a finger at Felix. “Like I said, a man who pays no heed to his lineage will do us no good! Marrying a man and tainting this holy place and—”

“The union was blessed by the church and the goddess. Be careful what you are saying,” Seteth’s glare can murder.

Sylvain, after all that Crest speech, walks to where Felix’s standing. He puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder while another with a fireball. “Mind you, my lord, the Faerghus region may be known for chivalry, but we all are magic users. We don’t need weapons to fight. Thanks to your late Queen’s coaching.”

Annette has Cutting Gale ready in her hand, Mercedes with Nosferatu and Ashe with Wind. Ingrid has summoned the knights of Faerghus.

Many lords’ face pale. Rhea looks like she wants to say something, but Seteth grabs her shoulder and shakes his head. The former Archbishop hesitates but backs down.

“While you were fighting for politics in a funeral, scavenging that little power and status from two _children_ who just lost their parents right in front of them. Over my dead body.” Felix directs his sword to Lord Ascania, “If you want them, fight me. Pick up a weapon and fight like a real Faerghan. Fight for your status, in front of the goddess. Fight for your stand for your liege, and quit that insinuating shit.”

“This is blasphemy! Blasphemy!”

“Oh yeah? Like I care,” Felix hisses. But just before a fight breaks out, Claude, panting, and Gilbert show up in the chapel again, with a scroll sealed with the Blaiddyd symbol.

“I have retrieved King Dimitri and Queen Byleth’s will, under the supervision of a knight of Faerghus.” Claude announces loudly.

“Is it even real? Why haven’t we heard of Their Majesties having finally signed a will?”

“The seal is intact with the date on. Anyone can check.” All eyes have turned to Claude. The Almyran king hands the scroll to Seteth, as the third person from the Church.

Seteth breaks the seal, smooths out the parchment, and scans through the content.

Dimitri knows what’s in there. The first line will settle everything down.

There is a momentary silence. The bishop clears his throat, obviously trying to calm himself before speaking.

Dimitri closes his eyes, memories flashing in his mind.

_“Have you made your choice, beloved?”_

_“Yes, and I know we’ve picked the same person.”_

_They look at each other and said the name at the same time_ —

“Their Majesties had named Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Duke of Fraldarius, Prime Minister of Fódlan, as the guardian of Prince Alexandre and Princess Sitri until the age of 18.”

_Byleth laughs. Dimitri kisses her forehead gently, “He is my most trusted friend, and may I ask your reason for choosing him?”_

_“If something happened, he would be the first to pick up a sword for our children.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. FINALLY. Felix in action (though they didn’t really fight). Enough talking, fight me.
> 
> And we have our Golden Deer here.
> 
> You will see that the old timeline is Sylvix intensive. All of our Sylvix readers, here is your thing. The next chapter may be very Sylvix but not sure yet. You know I’m not really a tight planner.
> 
> I was troubled by CF’s motifs and for the sake of my mental health, I didn’t brace myself to play that route. I only read spoilers. But for this fic, I just started CF, slowly though. Don’t want to risk my health too much. Self-care, my friends. Self-care.
> 
> I don’t want my interpretation of Edel too limited, but I do empathize with her, though just a bit.


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is now a father. Sylvain and Felix have a moment. Dimitri the farmer. A guest arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh 2000+ clicks?? Thanks for reading! All of your comments have made me so happy.
> 
> So we’re gradually having Felix & Sylvain POV when it comes to the past timeline. I promise this is a dimileth fic. We will meet Byleth very soon. Very soon, no joking.
> 
> As you may have noticed, starting this week I will update every Sunday. This fits my schedule better. My school assignments and grad school application are killing me.
> 
> Also, no update next week. I have two projects due for a filmmaking class and lots of essays to write.

“Their Majesties had named Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Duke of Fraldarius, Prime Minister of Fódlan, as the guardian of Prince Alexandre and Princess Sitri, until the age of 18.”

The sword almost slips out of Felix’s grip. The Duke has a momentary silence, first looking at Seteth, then turning to the Lions and Claude, losing all words.

Seteth gapes at the long piece of parchment. Rhea pales. The Almyran King seems not surprised at all. The Lions release a sigh of relief save for Sylvain, whose eyes widen at the implication: He and Felix will basically become fathers, starting this moment.

“Let me see,” Felix swipes the will out of Seteth’s hands, almost tearing it in the process. His eyes fix on the first line and finally loses it.

“SERIOUSLY BOAR? AND YOU PROFESSOR?” Felix throws the parchment back at Seteth, facing the two caskets. “You’ve gotta be _shitting_ me!”

Mercedes and Annette cover the twins’ ears, shooting Felix a glare. The nobles gasp.

“Felix!” Ingrid yells.

Gilbert furrows his brows, “Your Grace…”

_Sorry._ Dimitri sits on his own casket, whispering to Felix, who is glaring in his direction. _I should’ve told you beforehand_.

“I’m going to kill the boar.”

_I’m already dead, Felix._

Seteth shakes his head, “Please, let’s not use such language in front of the deceased, in front of the goddess, especially when you are now King Regent.”

Felix snaps, “I am no king, no regent, just a guardian of two children.

“But legally… you are,” Ingrid quietly reminds him.

The raven-haired lowers his head, growling. After a moment, he seems to have regained some composure and looks around the chapel. “What are you all looking at? Lower them into the crypt. Move on. We still have a bunch of bastards to kill.”

They come to the alter. Alex and Sitri see their parents for the last time. They look so pale, trembling in sorrow, too quiet for children at their age. Dimitri’s eyes fix on Byleth’s face until the Lions close the lid of the casket. Then they carry the royal couple on their shoulders, making their way out. Dimitri follows them, walking beside his wife’s body.

A small hand rests on his shoulder and stops him. It’s Sothis.

“Come here now, my dear Prince,” Sothis opens her arms, pulling Dimitri in. He finally realizes he’s been crying when the tears dampen the goddess’ dress.

“You have to let it go.”

_But how can I?_ “I can’t… I… Alex and Sitri… They are repeating my childhood. I can’t just stand by—”

“Dimitri, this is not your world anymore.”

“But they are still my children. Byleth’s children.” Dimitri can’t get rid of the last image of Byleth, and the twins’ little bodies shaking in despair.

Sothis sighs, gently patting on Dimitri’s back before letting him break apart from the embrace.

“Sothis?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you send me back here?”

“No, quite the contrary. I tried to stop you.”

“Then how did I…”

Sothis pauses. “I honestly don’t know. For you to break the restriction I set on time, this is the power that belongs to gods. It must have a reason,” She then lowers her gaze. “I feel so useless. I could’ve ended all the sorrow but just… I can do very little in my current state.”

They share a moment of silence.

“Can I stay a little bit longer?” asks Dimitri, quietly.

“You can, but it may significantly drain your energy, and maybe health.”

“I don’t care.”

“Alright, but I’ll send you back when it’s too much for you.”

Before Sothis disappears, Dimitri grabs her arm, “Thank you, Sothis.”

Sothis smiles.

\-------

Felix is angry. He wants to drag that boar king out of his tomb and stab him over and over until he dies again. Muttering a silent curse, he lowers the King’s casket into the sarcophagus, right next to the Queen’s. Lambert and Cecilia’s graves, among all the Blaiddyd ancestors, are not far away.

The Duke—no— _King Regent_ stares at the late King and Queen’s statues. He finds them ridiculous. How _the hell_ does the professor look so soft? It’s almost insulting.

After the war, every Lion has been living a peaceful life. Their muscles have receded into soft flesh (Sylvain has gained some significant amount of weight), except Felix and the royal couple. The boar, well, thanks to his Crest, manages to stay in shape without excessive training, which comes in handy when his duties as King made it difficult. Byleth and Felix kept up their routine and sparred whenever he came to the Monastery or Fhirdiad. However, when there’s no need to fight for survival, their bodies did turn a bit softer, but not that ridiculous.

Lithe arms and skinny legs and a demure smile on the Queen? While the boar looks so bulky and glorious and kingly?

Alex and Sitri put down white roses. Mercedes holds their hands. Felix wonders if the commotion in the church sent back memories to everyone. Mercedes was separated from his brother. Sylvain and Ingrid’s life is defined by Crest. Ashe and Christophe. Annette and her reunited father. Seteth and his little sister. (Where is Flayn by the way?)

What about himself?

Felix remembered how he looked at Glenn’s casket, just like the twins looking at their parents’.

The Lions stay there for another moment, mourning for their beloved friends—King and mentor, before Felix let them leave.

“Sylvain, take the children to our quarters. They need to rest.”

“What about you?”

“I need a moment.”

Hesitantly, the Lions and knights leave the crypt. Ingrid shoots back a concerning glance, but Felix simply keeps his back at them.

Dimitri enters the crypt when everyone is walking out, and Felix is alone, facing the sarcophagi.

The raven-haired chokes up, a suppressed sob echoed in the hollow underground, not quite enough for Dimitri to miss. He walks to his childhood best friend, a hand on his shoulder, and watches the younger man wiping away drops of tears.

“Boar, no…” Felix takes a deep breath, voice cracking in the middle, “Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s heart almost stops. It’s been years since he last called him by name.

“Dimitri, I don’t mind if you send me on any deadly missions or ask me to kill some demonic beasts that we didn’t clear out, or even send me over to Almyra to deal with Claude but…” Felix pauses. “You can’t just give me two children, no matter how much I already love them. It’s two, fucking, human, beings.”

Felix lowers his head, trying to get his thoughts clear. “Goddess, is my family a Blaiddyd orphanage or something?”

_I apologize, Felix. I didn’t want things to turn this way either._

“I wonder what you’re doing right now, or even where you are. Maybe there’s a next life. Maybe heaven, maybe hell, considered how many we’ve killed. I don’t give a damn but… if the professor is with you, take good care of her, okay? Don’t let my sparring partner die again before I can even meet up with you two.”

\-------

Dimitri is already feeling his energy drained when they leave the crypt, somewhat similar to when he just woke up in this world. He has to hold up, at least until he checks on the children. He feels the Crest of Blaiddyd channeling energy into his veins, buying him time.

Felix is walking through the hallway of his and Sylvain’s room when a minor lord, followed by several castle handmaids, stops him. He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

“Your Majesty—”

_Of course._

Dimitri snorts in the background. Hearing somebody address Felix like that is downright surreal.

Felix growls. The minor lord swallows and—“Your Highness…”

“Watch your mouth,” Felix warns.

“Um, I was just… talking to a few other lords that since Your Hi- Your Grace hold a higher office above all else in the Kingdom, it is only appropriate for you…”

“Cut all the flatteries. What are you trying to say?”

The minor lord looks like he is going to pass out, “Would Your Grace move to the royal quarters?”

Felix only stares at the lord.

After a moment. “Do you know the Kingdom is facing an enemy that is threatening our survival?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Do you know your responsibilities to _your_ people of _your_ territory?”

“…of course, Your Grace.”

“And yet you stand in front of me, only caring about getting _my favor_ to benefit _your ass_ by speaking all the nonsense. Do you not have better things to do? Do you not have shame?”

“…Your Grace—”

“Get out of my sight,” says Felix, gesturing to a knight to escort the noble out. He doesn’t even look at the dejected lord when he turns to open the door to his quarters. The Regent frowns when he realizes the door isn’t locked. He looks around, nothing suspicious, and relaxes.

Dimitri hesitates, not knowing if he should go into his friends’ bedroom.

But his children are there.

Felix closes the door. Dimitri takes a deep breath, mentally apologizing to the couple, and goes straight through.

Alex is curling up with Sylvain, fast asleep, while the Margrave is on the verge of dozing off and trying to stay awake. He has an arm wrapped around the boy as his pillow, another gently smoothing Alex’s back. Dimitri denies himself that he’s jealous.

When Felix approaches the bed, weight sinking into the edge of the mattress, Sylvain’s eyes shoot open, hands reaching under the pillow to grab a weapon. But when he sees it’s Felix, he immediately relaxes, looking exhausted.

“You should get some rest,” Felix’s fingers run through his husband’s hair, voice gentle.

“I would say the same to you. You didn’t sleep for three days,” Sylvain reaches out one hand and pulls Felix down, letting the raven-haired leaning into his side.

Dimitri clears his throat, although no one can hear him, and turns around. He shouldn’t invade his friends’ privacy.

Then he hears some faint noises coming out of the other room of the suite.

And someone is missing.

_Sylvain! Felix! Get up!_ Dimitri shouts at the two, trying to pull them out of bed. _My daughter is missing!_

But he is inaudible, no matter how hard Dimitri screams at the top of his lungs. The couple continues cuddling in bed, enjoying their moment of relaxation, until…

“What’s that noise?” Felix frowns.

“Lucas was somehow barking crazy. Didn’t want him to wake Alex up, so I had to lock him up in the study.”

Felix gets up, obviously bothered by the dog’s bark even muffled by the door and walls, and finds the same problem Dimitri just realized. “Where is Sitri?”

“She wanted to stay by the fire, so I let her.”

“And there’s _no one_ by the fire.”

Sylvain shoots up from the bed, “WHAT?!”

“Did she go to the bathroom?”

Dimitri almost goes right through the bathroom door but realizes he probably shouldn’t. He thinks about asking Byleth… Oh, they just buried his wife.

Felix knocks on the bathroom door, “Sitri, are you in there?”

No response.

“Sitri? We need to know if you’re okay.”

Still no response.

“I’ll go grab Mercedes, or Annette, or Ingrid,” Sylvain fetches his jacket, but Felix already opens the door. “Felix! You shouldn’t…”

Felix closes the door immediately, “She’s not in there.”

_What did you just do, Sylvain?!_ Dimitri yells, ready to punch a hole through Sylvain’s spirit. Somehow, the redhead shivers, as if sensing his menacing presence.

The couple runs out of the door, leaving two trusted knights guarding Alex. “Sylvain, I gave you one _simple task_ , keeping an eye on the twins, and you just allowed one to go missing!”

_I agree, Felix. And I would love to kill Sylvain._

Dimitri follows the two. His heart is giving out, but he has to keep pushing. They turn a corner, and the late King is already panting. “I’m really sorry Felix. This is totally my fault but… shouldn’t we focus on finding the girl?”

“You even had that obnoxious dog who followed Sitri everywhere! It was barking crazy and you noticed absolutely _nothing_?!”

_How dare you lock Lucas up. And he’s still in there, you idiots!_

The Regent and the Margrave ask every living person they see on their way, getting no answer. They eventually notify the Lions, and Ingrid grabs half of the knights of Faerghus, going around the castle and even into the nearby towns.

After finding nothing, Ashe is the first person to, finally, free Lucas from his makeshift jail, and the dog charges right to the underground. The Lions follow.

Then, in the crypt, they see Sitri, and Rhea is hugging her.

_How come nobody thought about the crypt?_

“Sitri!” Sylvain immediately pulls Sitri away from Rhea, inspecting any injuries on the girl. She seems unharmed; even her expressions are still as if really nothing has happened.

Rhea’s smile alarms Dimitri. “I wanted to visit the late Archbishop before returning to the Monastery, but I found Princess Sitri here. Please rest assured, my lords, I’ve taken care of her while she’s here.”

None of the Lions speaks a word, only glaring at her with suspicion. Rhea’s smile becomes sorrowful, “I shall take my leave.” But Rhea turns to Felix before leaving the crypt, “One more thing, Your Grace. Since no one bears the Crest of Flames, the church shall retrieve the Sword of the Creator.”

The Lions turn their attention to Felix, waiting for his decision. Felix absolutely hates being stared at but keeps himself controlled.

_Maybe it’s for the best_. Dimitri thinks. _No one else can touch Byleth’s sword._

“Yes, you may,” Felix sighs.

“I thank you for the understanding.”

“Now, please leave.”

Rhea leaves. Dimitri thinks she looks triumphant somehow, especially when everyone is still mourning.

“Sitri,” Dimitri’s attention returns to Felix when the Regent grabs his daughter by the shoulders. “Sitri, did she harm you?”

Sitri pauses, then shakes her head.

“Did she do anything?”

Sitri lowers her head, avoiding all eye contact, and shakes again. Her body starts trembling.

Something is wrong. Dimitri wants to do something, but his body gives out. He starts throwing up blood, heart aching as if punctured by a thousand arrows. And that is when Sothis sends him back.

\-------

Later that day, Felix and Sylvain turned their study into a nursery. If any intruders broke in like before, they would face the Regent and the Margrave first before making their way to the prince and princess.

It wasn’t a lot of work. The servants removed the two large desks in the room and moved in two toddler beds, the blankets from Claude, baby blue carpet covering half of the room, and several toys. Lucas took care of his stuff. When the servants were almost done, he dragged his dog bed into the new nursery, ran back, and got his bowl to the room.

_Oh right_ , Felix thinks, _there’s a second barrier to the twins—Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex_. He is thankful that at least his adopted son and daughter have a big fluffy guardian though he isn’t really a dog person.

When they’re done, the twins are put to bed, and Lucas has settled next to Sitri. Felix and Sylvain finally have a moment alone.

The couple sinks into the mattress, both releasing a long sigh, and then there is only silence.

Felix still cannot believe any of this. He is now not only a husband, a regent, and an adoptive _father_ to _two children_? Less than twenty days after his own wedding?

And he has lost three friends. They are gone, and he can’t do anything about it. Just like Glenn.

“I still can’t believe any of this is real.” Felix hears Sylvain say, in the dark.

“Me either,” Felix turns and wraps an arm around Sylvain. “I keep wondering who attacked Dimitri and Byleth, and why they haven’t done anything after their deaths.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t… just… Who can even land such an attack? They basically burned a forest down and two major towns into ashes,” Sylvain wipes his face, distraught. Just think about all the refugees swarming into the capital. If that thing ever hit the castle… “Ashe talked to me earlier… He’s going to Duscur, with Dedue. He says he’s taking him home and maybe… never come back again.”

Another long silence.

“Fe, I just—”

All of his words are silenced when Felix kisses him. The raven-haired man is so desperate as if his life depends on this, licking Sylvain’s mouth open, sucking on his bottom lip, and seeking the other’s tongue. “Take me home, Sylvain. Remind me what home feels like,” Felix’s eyes shine in the dark.

He eventually finds himself on top of Sylvain, arms around his head while Sylvain half leans against the headboard, both hands on Felix’s waist.

Their lips separate only for the two to pull their shirts off. The next wave of kissing has no gentleness, no skill, only the clash of lips and teeth and the heat and anger. Anger and grief.

Felix’s hands wander lower, one to Sylvain’s nipple, the other into his pants. Sylvain’s head falls back, barely muffling a whimper. “Keep it down, Syl,” Felix’s lips find his, then to his earlobe. “The twins are sleeping next door.”

Sylvain turns and pins Felix under his body. He licks on the younger man’s neck, then finding its way down. Somehow Felix can’t get rid of a feeling—a burden in his chest. It’s suffocating, but he needs the kisses, the touches and all the love from Sylvain, the man he has loved since childhood.

Eventually, Felix loses track of time and senses of being under Sylvain’s kisses. This is nice. The temporary haven of love and passion.

But Sylvain’s suddenly goes limp, crushing all the weight upon Felix’s. “Sylvain?” Felix registers his husband’s quiet sobs, his chest heaving on top.

Sylvain clutches Felix into his chest, hard enough to drive all the air out of the younger man’s lungs. He is trembling. “Sorry baby… I just can’t do this tonight… just… Can’t get rid of the images of…”

He stops, unable to speak. Felix pats on his back, the other hand running through his red hair.

“They’re gone, Fe. Dimitri, Byleth, and Dedue… They’re just…”

“They are not coming back.” Felix recalls how much he relied on Sylvain. When he tripped and grazed an elbow and a knee. When Dimitri broke his birthday sword. When his mother died to illness.

And when Glenn fell in Duscur.

He’d rather have Sylvain comfort him so that the older man wouldn’t be the one crying. He would always smile, arms gently enveloping Felix, telling him everything is gonna be alright.

And yet Sylvain is crying in his arms.

“Fe?” Eventually, Sylvain lets out a broken word.

“Yes, Syl?”

“Don’t leave me alone in this world.”

“Of course not. We made a promise.”

\-------

When Dimitri regains consciousness again, it’s two days after Lambert’s funeral, his body weak, but someone has been taking care of him.

Dimitri opens his eyes. Dedue, who has been feeding him porridge, almost drops the bowl.

“Your Highness—”

“Please, no titles.” Dimitri wonders when he has picked up the honorifics.

“Everyone in the palace addresses you this way. I should only show my respect, especially after you saved us all.”

Dimitri doesn’t have the energy to argue. He wonders if he kept switching timelines, everybody would see him weak and bedridden, unfitting for the throne.

“Big prince!” Before Dimitri can figure out what is happening, a small soft body crashes against his own. A girl around the same age of Alex and Sitri is hugging him tight. She has dark skin and white hair, looking really excited.

It appears that Dedue’s little sister, Aria, has been staying here with her brother since Dimitri passed out. Rufus eagerly sent Cornelia and many physicians to Dimitri’s chambers as if he was waiting for the news that the Prince was dying from some rare disease.

But Cornelia couldn’t find anything. No illnesses, no injuries. The physicians then reached the conclusion: The Prince collapsed due to exhaustion, stress, and grief.

Dimitri is very surprised that Cornelia didn’t try to kill him.

“All the eyes are on her now, princeling. She can’t do anything,” Sothis says lazily.

Apparently, Dedue’s mother, Mila, has been trying to cook for Dimitri, much to the resentment of the royal servants and cooks. And apparently, the palace has suspected the Duscur woman’s intention, so, apparently, they’ve banned Mila from the servant’s chambers and dumped all the food.

The first thing Dimitri does after waking up is inviting Mila to the castle. He asked the servants to prepare a suite for the family of three. The quarters turn out to be Dedue’s old room (for Dedue) and the room right next to it (for the mother and daughter).

In his previous life, Dedue shared Dimitri’s chambers until Dimitri turned 15. Though Rufus was a bit upset, he never said anything. But now, the King Regent is absolutely exasperated when he hears about Dimitri’s arrangement ( _Moving a Duscur family, those traitors, into the castle?!_ ), especially when he realizes the Prince never asked for his opinion ( _What?!_ ). He summons Dimitri to his study and, after a scolding, demands to send them away.

Dimitri pauses for a second, not knowing what to do, until he remembers how, in the past life, Dedue mentioned he learned cooking and gardening from his mother.

“Uncle, I believe the family can be useful to you, especially since Ms. Molinaro has special skills in herbology and potions. The weather in Faerghus is too harsh for plants to grow. Our medicinal supplies rely heavily on Duscur and Almyran imports. I have evidence to believe that Ms. Molinaro may be able to grow herbs for your arthritis and—” Dimitri pauses, emphasizing his next words, “your general health and _stamina_.”

_What is this about_? Sothis lifts an eyebrow.

_My uncle is a womanizer_. Dimitri mentally replies, though shyly. He is standing in front of Rufus’ table, still with that innocent, princely smile.

_Oh_. Sothis chuckles, a hand over her mouth.

Later, when Mila and Dedue do successfully grow several types of rare herbs in the royal greenhouse, one night, Rufus immediately demands them to bring that “stamina concoction” to his chambers. Dimitri asks Mila to simply brew some tea or soup with medicinal flavor, and that should do the trick. The mother and son are only confused but does as told anyway.

Dimitri remembers during the war, when Mercedes ran out of the ingredients for his sleep potion, Byleth cooked him a soup, telling him it was a special concoction from an old book she read. He drank it with no doubts, fully trusting her, and slept like a log. The same occasion took place several more times until after the war, Byleth admitted it was only edible weeds. Dimitri made sure Dedue didn’t know anything about it.

Unsurprisingly, the next morning, Rufus shows up to the breakfast table, looking vigorous and _satisfied_. He then demands more of this “stamina concoction” and never mentions a word about throwing Dedue and his family out ever again. But Dimitri makes sure Mila gets paid.

_Tactics and decoy. You’re behaving like that yellow prince._ Sothis says _._

_Claude was the liar of the century. I am not. I only exaggerated._

It is relatively easy to solve the problem for Dedue’s family, but not quite so for the rest of the villagers. How do they sustain themselves in Faerghus?

Duscur relies heavily on pottery and winemaking. Dimitri does a lot of research during his time being bedridden. With the help of Dedue and the villagers, Dimitri comes to the conclusion that pottery is not an option. Fearghus does not produce the clay they require.

Winemaking is impossible too. Grapevines do not tolerate even a bit of frost, and the very few vineyards in Southern Faerghus only produce sour fruit, making the worst wine of all Fódlan (that’s why they are all for making vinegar). Not to mention a vineyard requires five to eight years of tending before bearing any fruit. Importing grapes from either the Alliance or the Empire does not make sense, either. It is expensive, and they will all spoil during transportation.

There isn’t enough land for grazing near the capital, so Dimitri settles on farming in the end. Faerghus is known for its terrible weather, but it doesn’t mean nothing grows at all. Wheat and barley do fine, the same as potatoes and cabbages. Farmers usually harvest a nice amount of chard, and even rice survives in certain areas.

But where does Dimitri find the farmland for them?

Rodrigue has been negotiating with landowners. Those who are looking to sell generally have no issue having Duscur villagers moving in, but all the surrounding communities almost start a rebellion. Out of fear for losing property value and of hatred against the “Duscur traitors”, the local villagers demand the Prince to keep the Duscur people away from their land.

Dimitri has spent weeks after weeks on negotiations. His time is running low because even the innkeeper has been complaining how little he’s made since the Duscur villagers checked in ( _No one else would stay here!_ ). Dimitri has to compensate him with more gemstones.

Yes, he inherited way too many gemstones stored in his family’s private safe, apart from the royal treasury. Faerghus is never poor with all the mines in mountains surrounding their territories. They never run out of pelts with all the wild animal dwell in their forests. But you can’t eat gold. You can’t save lives with diamonds. You need food. During the time of peace, they trade with surrounding nations for necessities but in times of turmoil, gemstones and gold are nothing but trash unless they can be traded.

Several weeks pass. It is now two months after Glenn sets off on his journey, and yet Dimitri has not heard back from him or Liam. He has a bad feeling but there is nothing he can do. He has sent almost all of the remaining knights of Faerghus to different noble territories, gathering information to prevent another slaughter in Duscur.

But he does receive some good news. A landowner writes him a letter, offering his farmland at a very reasonable price. There are five large houses and seven small cottages, blueberry shrubs and orchards, enough space for horses, and even a vast lake for fishing.

Something too good to be true only makes Dimitri suspicious, so he decides to visit the place with Rodrigue and several older Duscur villagers. It turns out the farm and its surrounding areas have been suffering crop failures for five years. Somehow the lake doesn’t produce fish anymore. Other farms in the area have either been abandoned or are waiting for a dumb buyer. The local community, therefore, doesn’t reject Duscur villagers at all, because there is _no_ local community.

The owner only feels honored and yet terrified by the Prince’s presence. He obviously didn’t believe Dimitri would visit himself. The Prince is disappointed. Rodrigue shakes his head in disapproval. Aria doesn’t care as long as she can hang out with Dimitri. Recently she’s been spending a lot of time around him, and she reminds him of Sitri.

Rodrigue advises Dimitri to return, and yet the village elders show interests.

They examine the houses, their timber and structures. They dig their hands into the ground, rubbing the moist mud with fingers until they are dry particles, and inhale its smell deeply. They then visit the orchard, the lake, and then the land for horses, and finally nod.

“Are you sure, Mr. Mateo?” Rodrigue frowns.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the elder who has emerged as the villagers’ leader responds, “This land is still blessed by the goddess of the harvest, but its owners have drained it. Soil should be cherished. Its divine power shall be protected. We shall make it prosper again.”

And so the deal is settled.

Contracts are signed. Coins are traded (the desperate owner almost cries). Hands are shaken (in the men and women of Duscur’s case, _hugs_ ). Though a bit far away from the castle, this is their new home.

Three days later, the villagers move in. Dedue, his mother and sister also come to join a ceremony. It is hard to bring Felix out with them. Somehow after Glenn’s exile, the boy has been spending most of his time training and sparring with guards and knights. Dimitri usually joins him, trying not to get too hard on his friend. He trains even after losing countless times, even when his arms hurt too much to lift the sword. Dimitri eventually has to force a stop, carrying Felix to the bath.

And later, Felix finally gives him the reason. “One day, I will protect Glenn. I will bring him home.”

Dimitri is pouring the dirty water out of the tub. He pauses, turns and smiles at his friend. “You will.”

In his past life, Felix was one of the most formidable warriors, not just in the army but the entire continent. Dimitri knows Felix will excel again.

In the end, they do manage to get Felix out of the training hall to the move-in party.

It is more of a traditional ritual, a new experience for Dimitri. The villagers have fermented a drink from wheat three days prior. Mateo pours some into a shallow bowl, only three fingers holding the weight and the fourth in the center of the bottom—there is a tiny hole. After they make a fire and everybody sings a prayer to Elena, the goddess of the harvest, Mateo walks to the bonfire, releasing the fourth finger and allowing the fermented drink to pour into the ground.

_Sothis._

“Hm?”

_Is Elena a goddess too?_

Sothis opens her eyes, trying very hard to recall. “The name sounds familiar. My memory is very limited but… there are pieces that I do recall a nice lady named Elena.”

_Are you sure she wasn’t a mortal named Elena?_

“I’m not sure…”

_Would you let me know if you recall anything? This is so fascinating._

“Of course.”

Then they share the drink. According to the villagers, it should be sweet with a hint of alcohol. Dimitri does smell alcohol in there but tastes nothing. Rodrigue only allows him and Felix to take a small sip before taking the bowl away, though that drink isn’t any stronger than overripe berries.

Dedue, on countless occasions in their past life, mentioned how good a cook his mother was. Dimitri finally gets to try. It is a simple dish made of barley, olives, and raisins, with drizzles of fine olive oil to enhance its flavor. It smells so nice. Dimitri really wishes his taste buds were still functional.

“I hope you like the texture, Your Highness,” says Dedue.

“It is very nice. Thank you, Dedue. Thank you, Ms. Molinaro.” The barley is easy to chew on and yet retains its chewiness. The olives only add to that texture, with its special smell enhancing the flavor. And the raisins—since they are the most common source of sweetness for the poor, royalty and nobles alike rarely touch them, calling it the “peasant food.”

But they are so nice.

Rodrigue is exchanging toasts with the villagers. Dedue has been helping his mother with cooking. Aria tries to help too, mixing up sand and mud in an empty bowl, making her own mud cakes.

_Wait_. Dimitri pauses. Did Dedue say he wished the “texture” was nice?

“Dedue… what do you mean by, _texture_?” He’s never mentioned his inability to taste in this world, right?

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I thought you couldn’t taste anything. Somehow that idea just came into my mind. I am probably wrong.”

_How does he know?_

“You’re… not wrong, actually.”

Rodrigue abruptly turns his gaze back to Dimitri, “Why did you mention none of this, Your Highness?”

“It’s true,” Felix says. “The other day the maid put too much sugar in our tea. He drank it like it was nothing.”

“I’d say your tolerance to sweetness is quite different from the rest of us, Felix.”

“Shut up Dimitri.” Felix has been picking up words Glenn uses, even more so after the Fraldarius heir left.

“Your Highness—” Rodrigue tries to say something.

“Do not fret, Rodrigue. It doesn’t matter. We have more important things to attend to.”

Something in Rodrigue’s gaze shifts, as if examining the young prince in front of him. Dimitri doesn’t notice it because one question has dawned on him: _What is going on with Dedue_?

\-------

Rufus has been trying to keep Dimitri out of any Kingdom business, keeping him busy with tutors. Dimitri heeds Sothis’ warning, pretending he is still learning when he has actually outclassed many of the teachers. The only place he can learn new things is probably Garreg Mach, from Byleth, from the Lions, but that is years into the future.

Whenever Dimitri has time, he helps the villagers work on their farm. It takes him little effort to plow through the entire field while it should’ve been quite some work for the villagers.

When that is done, Dimitri and the people from Duscur dig their hands into the soil, making the lower lines of land even lower and the ridges higher. The Prince immediately realizes what they are doing: creating streams in the lower parts, something that he read about in books.

Then the villagers pour lake water into the chiseled part of the land. Since the lakes and rivers in this area have long been depleted of any fish, they ride to a nearby town two hours away from the farm and purchase hundreds of Airmid Goby and Caledonian Crayfish. The fish is thrown into the streams, and they start planting on the ridges right next to them.

The waters generate heat in the cold night, creating protection for the crops while the roots absorb water preserved in the streams, making irrigation easier. When water is scarce in Duscur, men and women use this technique to ensure the harvests.

Dimitri loves working on the field. There is something special about growing, nurturing, and creating things for people. In the end, things that matter are only food, water, and air. Dimitri is happy when his hands dig into the moist soil, sometimes bringing up small worms on his way. The field makes him alive. The voices from Lambert and Glenn, sometimes Patricia, quiet down, giving him temporary peace.

It is now three months after Glenn’s departure. Dimitri has been wondering why nothing has happened. The knights he sent out haven’t found anything suspicious. The church hasn’t been trying anything with House Gaspard.

And yet one morning, when Dimitri has just started working on the field, a knight appears on the farm.

“Your Highness, Lord Gaspard requests an audience with you.”

Dimitri puts down the water buckets, wiping his forehead, “I thought Lord Lonato was visiting next moon.”

“No, Your Highness, not Lord Lonato, but Lord Christophe Gaspard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix is so fun to write. And the chapters are getting longer…
> 
> The agriculture part is something I read about the Sumerians. The housewarming party (lol), mainly the fermented drink part, is prevalent in Mesopotamia and the ancient Mediterranean world. What is that drink? Early stage of beer. Not quite classified as alcohol. Please forgive any inaccurate terms. I read about these topics mainly in my native language…
> 
> That barley dish is something I tried in North Africa. I was too young to remember the name. I have to say, as a gal from Asia, I was never into olive oil until that dish. It blew my mind.
> 
> I hope you find that section interesting. If not, please just ignore me being an archaeology junkie…  
> We’ll be meeting Byleth soon. I promise.


	6. Call of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff between the couple. Dimitri duels the Duke. An encounter in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived midterms! Now I have more schoolwork! Projects! Applications! Nights in bed wondering wtf is going on with my life! But screw them! New chapter up!  
> Also, it’s dimileth week right? And I’m being very obvious here. VERY OBVIOUS. I can be a good person you know. Hope you guys like it.
> 
> Trigger warning: mention of past suicidal thoughts, mention of mental health illnesses, blood, violence, animal abuse

Dimitri doesn’t know much about Christophe besides a few encounters when he visited the capital with Lonato. In his past life, Ashe only mentioned his adoptive brother a few times, and Dimitri never got to know why he was executed, or why Catherine betrayed him, or what he did to get his death sentence in the first place.

Of course, he knew Christophe offended the church and somehow got involved with some assassination attempts on Rhea.

And now the more Dimitri thinks about it, the more suspicious he gets. What did Catherine, or Cassandra back then, do? Dimitri didn’t hate her even after all the “ _adorable maiden wielding a giant lance_ ” incident (well, it did take a few years to fully forgive her). He was simply confused. What really happened? If she was involved with the Tragedy, then why did Rhea take her into the Church but execute Christophe?

Also, everything Rhea did during his funeral has successfully enraged Dimitri. How dare that woman try to separate his children?

What does she want from Sitri, a three-year-old toddler who just began speaking full sentences?

On his way back to the castle, the knight tells Dimitri that Christophe brought another guest. He desperately hopes it’s Ashe, but when he sees Catherine standing next to Christophe, he almost slips the words—

_Shouldn’t you have already fled the Kingdom?_

“Your Highness,” the two visitors bow to him.

Dimitri nods, “Lord Christophe, Lady Cath… Lady Cassandra.”

Cassandra grins, “Almost said the wrong name, huh? His Highness has another girl on his mind.”

“Sandra! You cannot speak as such in front of His Highness!” Christophe protests.

“Yeah, sure, honey, but I’ve done worse,” Cassandra says.

Dimitri never expected the two to be a rowdy pair, and the endearment she used… Probably just teasing. Dimitri rubs his forehead and sighs, “Please. If you’re about to bring up some certain incident, the young maiden can speak with his weapon.”

Cassandra laughs out loud, “No need. I heard you pulled out some techniques in Duscur. Surely I was wrong about you, and my father already gave me an earful.”

They take seats, following Dimitri. When he starts feeling the hunger caused by labor, Dedue brings in tea and dessert. Dimitri nods at his friend and picks up one cookie. The hint of lemon in the air tells him this is lemon sables, Byleth’s favorite during pregnancy.

Well, in the early stage, at least.

_For three consecutive days, Queen Byleth Eisner-Blaiddyd acts like a three-year-old. She eats nothing but lemon cookies, sometimes with a glass of milk, if she doesn’t feel like throwing up. Dimitri tries to keep an eye on her, trying to convince himself that her odd diet will eventually go away._

_Until yesterday._

_The castle was holding a banquet for nobles from all regions, something to bring the former three countries together into a unified Fódlan. Also, since the palace announced the Queen’s pregnancy a few days ago, this event also became a celebration for the royal couple. Halfway through the day, Dimitri already hears some maids exchange panicky whispers._

_“Her Majesty had all the desserts and still wants more… The kitchen can’t keep up.”_

_“They made at least two hundred lemon cookies!”_

_“They didn’t expect this would happen.”_

_Dimitri remembered how Byleth shared five meals with ten different people in one go at the Monastery. Her enormous appetite was something everybody knew. Before the war broke out when food was never a scarce resource, the dining hall always prepared extra for the professor._

_To think how many cookies Byleth must have eaten even before lunch, Dimitri almost ripped his gloves (made very sturdy with special materials). He had to do something._

_Annette was appalled seeing Byleth’s new diet. Mercedes tried to channel some white magic to at least calm some of her pregnancy symptoms so that the Queen can eat some normal food._

_Felix came to Dimitri, “Get a hold of your woman. It’s looking bad like you don’t normally feed her or something. She’s the Archbishop, for fuck’s sake. Don’t turn this into a diplomatic disaster.”_

_“Well, that means he cares about Byleth,” Sylvain cuts in with a grin, earning a punch on the shoulder from his boyfriend. “Felix!”_

_For the first time, Dimitri didn’t correct Felix’s language._

_The very tired King finally finished talking to everybody, sharing dances with ladies from all regions and listening to everyone’s requests and, most of the time, flatteries when all of his minds were on Byleth. Dimitri went back to the King’s quarters, right next to the Queen Consort’s rooms._

_Everyone in the palace knows the King and Queen always share a bedroom, except on some very few occasions Dimitri got kicked out of the King’s quarters and had to spend the night in the Consort’s room because Byleth was upset with him._

_And Dimitri feared that this would become one of the days he got kicked out._

_However, when he entered the room, Byleth was already fast asleep. She hugged Dimitri’s pillow as if hugging the King in her dream, messy teal hair everywhere on the bed—she kept it long after the war so the maids wouldn’t pull her scalp too tight for an elegant “Queen hairstyle,” as Byleth called it. Dimitri gathered most of her hair and pushed it above her head before lying down. He didn’t want to accidentally crush and pull her hair and wake her up._

_Dimitri carefully pulled the pillow out of her arms, and Byleth scooted closer almost immediately, grabbing Dimitri’s arm and refusing to let go._

_He gently rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers, the scent of her lavender shampoo calming his nerves. “Beloved, you’re worrying me…” he said quietly. He would have a conversation with her tomorrow._

_And the next morning, in the current moment, Dimitri faces a very upset 3-year-old wife during breakfast, folding her arms in front of her chest, glaring knives at Dimitri only because there are no longer lemon cookies on the dining table at the King’s order._

_“Didn’t you eat nothing but bread and cheese for months?”_

_She’s not wrong. Before Gronder, Dimitri refused any food or drinks. Only Byleth could coax and nag at him to at least eat some cottage loaves with chunks of old Tailtean cheese, Dimitri’s favorite in the academy._

_But he did eat berries from time to time. When his murderous instinct got the best of him and the mad prince wandered into the forest, hunting way too many deer for the army, he would in the forest. When he was thirsty, he stopped to grab berries from nearby shrubs. It was a miracle he didn’t get killed by some poisonous berry._

_“That—” Dimitri searches for every excuse in his head. Because he was a madman back then? Barking at everybody who dare approach him in the cathedral? Because the ghosts had been loud, telling him to either hang Edelgard’s head from the gates of Enbarr or jump out of the goddess tower and end it all for good? Because Byleth is not crazy but pregnant and should eat better?_

_No, that is not even a reason._

_“Well, if you want bread and cheese, I can ask the kitchen to make you some warm whole wheat sweet buns to ensure your fiber intake. I can send a servant to a nearby farm for their famous Tailtean Cheese made of grass-fed—”_

_“Dimitri!”_

_“…or if you want some fresh air, we can visit the farm together. Their cows are lovely—”_

_“But I want my lemon cookies! You can’t let them take my cookies away!”_

_“Moo…?” Dimitri doesn’t even know what he is doing. Is he seriously cooing Byleth like a toddler, even imitating the sound of a cow?_

_From the corner of his eye, the very embarrassed King can see Dedue have his face in both hands. The servants pretend not to look at the two most important persons of the continent. Surely the rumors will make its way to Enbarr in a matter of hours, but Dimitri doesn’t care at the moment._

_“Do you not love me anymore?” Byleth is on the brink of tears._

_“Wha… No! Beloved, I—” What is going on with Byleth recently? Dimitri wants to scream. She’s adorable this way, yes, but it’s just too odd, and sometimes too much. The mood swings, the frequent tears, and the bickers over things like lemon cookies and the “you love Lucas more than me!”_

_Dedue kindly leaves the couple, ushering all servants out, and gently closes the door for them._

_“Byleth, no one can possibly survive by eating nothing but lemon cookies—” Dimitri realizes this is only getting absurd. “Especially not when you are pregnant with my child. That’s two lives!”_

_“So you only care because I am carrying **your** child?”_

_“No! Byleth my love, how can I possibly… You didn’t even poop for the past three days!”_

_“You only care about **my shit** when I’m **hungry** and can’t eat **anything** without throwing up **everything** and my baby is **starving** and I **can’t even take care of them** even before **they’re out of my belly**! I’m a **horrible** mother, Dimitri—” Byleth’s rage peters out into silent tears at the end._

_Dimitri tries to comfort Byleth, but she runs out of the dining room before he can, crying. He is utterly confused: What in the world is going on with his wife?_

_“You will stay in the other room today!” she slams the door behind her after yelling at him, scaring a couple of servants and maids and guards on her way out. Dimitri takes a few deep breaths before Dedue gingerly opens the door to check on his old friend._

_Dimitri sighs, “I’ll get some food to our room—well, her room for the day. Would you send for Mercedes, please? I need some… consultation on Byleth’s health.”_

_“I believe she is already waiting in the drawing-room,” Dedue says with a smile._

_Oh._

_After yesterday’s “sable incident (cookie incident sounds way too ridiculous for Dimitri),” it’s not surprising that Mercedes would want to visit._

_Dimitri narrates Byleth’s symptoms, including her abrupt mood swings and all the dietary issues. But Mercedes only smiles, “It’s all very normal during pregnancy. It’s a difficult time for the professor because her body, including the brain, is adjusting to carrying a baby. I’ll need Your Majesty to take good care of her, but I’ll also give her some herbs to soothe her mood, and her appetite, too. But we definitely have to make sure she keeps a healthy diet.”_

_Dimitri nods, feeling some stress relieved._

_Dedue seems to be pondering. “Please, my friend. Feel free to speak your mind,” the King says._

_“Your Majesty, maybe I can ask Ashe to try some new recipes for Her Majesty. It’s worth a try…”_

He stares at the cookie, thinking about how even Alex and Sitri love them. Whenever they have a nightmare (somehow they share nightmares all the time) and run to the royal quarters for their parents, Dimitri would call for some lemon sables and warm milk for the children before they finally calm down and snuggle up to the older Eisner-Blaiddyds. The family of four would share a bed, accompanied by the fluffy golden dog, the hearth radiating warm light.

_Byleth Byleth Byleth Byleth—where are you?_

Dimitri squeezes his eyes shut, pained by all the loving memories, until Dedue quietly asks, “Is it not to your liking, Your Highness?”

Dimitri immediately shakes his head, “My apologies. I simply lost in thoughts. Everything is perfect. Thank you, my friend.”

Christophe and Cassandra seem not to have noticed Dimitri’s moment of reverie. They are more curious about Dedue. While the Prince expects them to say something about why the Duscurians are traitors and Dimitri should get rid of him, the pair says nothing but directs their attention back to the crown prince.

“So, my lady, my lord, is there anything I can help you with?” Dimitri puts down his teacup.

Cassandra clears his throat, “Yes. A couple of days ago, while Chris and I were traveling in the Charon territories, we encountered a group of bandits. They were tough. Their weapons were way too advanced for mere bandits, so we believe they might belong to a larger group. Before them, we found other smaller bandit groups, too. House Charon has been having difficulties clearing out thieves and bandits since the Tragedy, and it is getting even worse.”

“I see.” Dimitri nods, “What about the Gaspard territories? Charon, Gaspard, and Galatea share the southern border of Faerghus. Count Galatea already mentioned how things had been difficult in his territories as well.”

“Well, that is exactly what is happening in Gaspard. And that’s why our fathers sent us to you for help in the first place,” Christophe only sighs.

“But… I have very little power in such a matter. Not to mention most of the remaining knights of Faerghus are either recuperating from injuries or on missions. I only have a small team left. Have you tried talking to my uncle?”

Cassandra and Christophe look at each other, then turn their gaze back to Dimitri, and then direct their eyes away. Christophe suddenly finds a lot of interest in the rug patterns while Cassandra stares at some gardenia on a small table.

“Well…” Cassandra clears her throat, “we did write him letters, but we received no aid or response.” Blunt as ever.

Dimitri almost groans. Of course, when Cornelia is the one handling all of the politics for Rufus, she’d love to see the Kingdom shatter into chaos.

“I see. Though I don’t have enough men, I will summon the knights. We will set out tomorrow morning.”

“Your Highness—” Rodrigue can no longer stay silent, “You are still recovering, and we cannot possibly—”

“Please, Rodrigue. I can protect myself, and I can’t sit idle in the castle every day when my people are suffering.”

“You are still recovering yourself. I’ll go if it’s necessary, Your Highness. If Lambert knew…”

“Father would’ve done the same as I do, and the Fraldarius territories need you. Felix needs you.”

“Forgive me, Dimitri,” Rodrigue finally says, “but you are too young.”

For a long moment, nobody in the room talks. Dimitri stares at Rodrigue. Yes, in his past life, the 13-year-old Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was still crying in his father’s chamber, clutching to the late King’s clothes, searching for Lambert’s presence. Rodrigue spent almost two years in Fhirdiad, basically abandoning Felix to his younger brother, who became the Duke’s deputy for the time being. There was no way for the other Prince to pick up a lance and fight right after Duscur.

But Dimitri is not the same anymore.

“How about this, Rodrigue,” Dimitri clears his throat. “I challenge you to a duel. If I win, I will go, and you will return to your estate with Felix.”

Rodrigue’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting a challenge.

“Your Highness, this is…” Christophe gapes. Dimitri knows what he is thinking: a 13-year-old kid challenging one of the most renowned warriors in Faerghus.

“Well, I really look forward to it,” Cassandra grins, “and just to let you know, when we were dealing with the bandits in Charon, Sir Glenn was also there. He had a good fight, but apparently Liam the knight and some of our men had to send him to the Monastery for treatment.”

Both Rodrigue and Dimitri gasp, and their attention return to each other.

And the Duke bows, “I am honored to accept your challenge, Your Highness.”

And that is settled. Dimitri returns to his room for preparations, and Sothis has been yelling at him the entire time.

“Don’t you even have any brain cells?! Didn’t I tell you not to go around and show off your skills?”

_I have to do this. This is my duty._

“Then you better be careful not to get everyone suspicious! And you don’t even have that strength like you did before. Just… just look at your teeny tiny arms. What were you even thinking?”

Dimitri doesn’t answer, as one question somehow jumps into his head. Maybe because of his previous thoughts about the “sable incident.”

_Sothis?_

“Hm?”

_Forgive me if I’m prying but… do you… ahem, defecate?_

A long silence from the goddess.

“Do you want me to poop in your head? I can do that if it cures your stupidity.”

_My sincerest apologies. Please forget what I just said._

\-------

The goddess refuses to talk later when Dimitri is in the training ground. He can feel Sothis’ presence in the back of his mind, huffing and deliberately ignoring the Prince.

Rodrigue has picked a practice sword, Dimitri with a blunt wooden lance. They draw a circle on the ground and signal Rowan, a knight of Faerghus and the duel's adjudicator.

“Three rounds, Your Highness? Your Grace?”

Rodrigue turns and sends Dimitri a look of inquiry.

“One would be enough,” says Dimitri.

“Courage, commendable,” says Rodrigue. Dimitri knows his unsaid words— _but foolish_.

“If you get your ass kicked, I won’t use a pulse this time.” Sothis grumbles.

Rowan looks between Dimitri and Rodrigue, shocked. The knights of Faerghus have gathered in the training hall, some guards, and servants as well. Felix has also shown up, looking worried—the last time he witnessed a duel, Glenn won a tournament with a broken arm.

“Uh… victory condition one, the first to land a critical hit wins. Condition two, the one to knock the opponent out of the circle wins. Condition three, the one to disarm the other wins. And now the combat begins.”

Normally, Dimitri would lunge first and brutally end his enemy, but Rodrigue is an ally, and he has promised Sothis he’d play by their “no-show-off” rule. He can’t let people know the Crown Prince has magically obtained some monstrous murdering techniques overnight, not to mention Dimitri hates that bestial self.

He tries to remember Byleth’s lessons—patience, form, and accuracy. He tries to remember sparring with the knights of Seiros—how to fight like a classical storybook knight instead of ripping someone’s head straight off the shoulders.

Dimitri walks around the ring, patiently preparing for Rodrigue’s attack. However, as a seasoned fighter, Rodrigue wouldn’t give Dimitri an opportunity. He waits and waits, as if the two can wait until the end of the world.

Therefore the Prince feints with his right, planning to provoke Rodrigue and attack with the left instead, but Dimitri forgets how small he is right now. Before he can jump out of Rodrigue’s attack range, the Duke already scratches his left shoulder.

Dimitri hears Sothis groans, “You’re a 13-year-old. Don’t play 23.”

_Apologies. I am simply not used to being so small._

Rodrigue, apparently, doesn’t plan to pull out all of his skills. His look shows nothing but tiredness, like a father who doesn’t know how to deal with his rebellion-stage hormonal teenage son.

“Let him underestimate you.”

_Let him underestimate me_.

Sothis and Dimitri say at the same time.

He mentally grins at the goddess, faking to slump to the ground when he takes a hit from Rodrigue. Dimitri hears Felix’s muffled cry.

“I hate to do this, Dimitri,” Rodrigue sighs and shakes his head, ready to land the last blow.

But before the Duke does anything, Dimitri kicks himself out of the ground with one hand as leverage, swiping the shaft of his lance at Rodrigue’s middle body. The latter loses balance, and seizing the chance, Dimitri lands another attack, which Rodrigue barely blocks with the sword. And just as he is busy fending his neck, Dimitri kicks his wrist, knocking Rodrigue’s weapon out of his hand.

A moment of silence. Clearly nobody expected this. Christophe’s jaws are still on the floor. Cassandra seems to be pleased.

“Prince… Prince Dimitri wins!” Rowan shakily announces.

Felix quickly runs across the training hall to Rodrigue, trying to help him up, but the Duke simply stands up on his own. The raven-haired boy seems a little bit disappointed and turns to Dimitri, hugging him tightly. Dedue comes over, checking Dimitri for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?” Felix quietly asks.

“I’m fine, Fe.” Dimitri then turns his glaze to Rodrigue, who only smiles.

They turn and see the Duke smile, but before the older Fraldarius man can say anything, a piercing screech almost tumbles everyone to the ground. A humongous beast dashes across the sky as if falling from the clouds. Its large wings flutter uselessly, wind gusting through the training ground. It cries and cries and cries, as if in great agony.

Dragon.

A green **dragon**.

_What in Sothis’ name…?_

Sothis screams in agreement, “Yeah, what in my name is going on!”

Dimitri and Rodrigue exchange a glance and quickly pick up real weapons from the racks. “All knights! Follow me!” Dimitri barks at his men, ready for battle.

\-------

They follow the dragon’s screams to the forest before splitting into two groups. Christophe and Cassandra lead their own battalions; Dimitri and Rodrigue lead the knights, but none of them realize Felix and Dedue has followed them into the wild until it is already too far away from the castle.

Rodrigue has to allow them to stick around.

Somehow, _somehow_ , Dimitri feels as if divine forces are leading him to a destiny. He can sense it, his heart answering the call of the unknown, and yet it feels so familiar. Like home, he thinks.

It doesn’t take long for Dimitri to locate the dragon. A group of poachers, made obvious by their special weapons and equipment, attack the divine creature. Sacks of loot scatter in the area, obviously pillaged from nearby villages. They try to submit it into surrender, and some already unsheathe their skinner knives, ready to cut some legendary dragon skin. Screaming in pain, the dragon is gravely injured, green scales covered in dark blood. It tries to fight off the chains those poachers set up, but it’s weak, and it’s trapped.

Their weapons… look all so strange. Their long curved knives are designed for decapitation beam in red light, but they are clearly not relics. Chains are currently trapping the dragon flash with something like lightning. Some of the swords they wield roar with fire.

All too strange for mere bandits.

The dragon attempts to spit some fire, but only flickers of embers appear. Dimitri thinks of the war when mages run out of their magic.

“ ** _How dare you hurt her?!_** ” Dimitri doesn’t know why he is so furious, nor does he have any time to ponder.

Also, _her_? Do dragons have gender in the first place?

Rodrigue screams at Dimitri to come back, but the crown prince is already in action, lunging at the first two swordsmen he sees. The knights quickly shake off their stupor, probably used to the Prince’s new personalities since Duscur, and join the battle.

The bandits turn their attention on the Faerghan men and women at once, leaving the dragon behind.

The first two swordsmen never expect an all murderous teenager is ready to lop off their heads. It’s quick and easy. Before they can even blink, the two are gargling and choking on their own blood, a massive slash on their throats.

_The next one. Next. Next…_

And that’s when Sothis stepped in. Time shatters around them. Dimitri stands in front of the throne.

“What are you doing?!” Dimitri grimaces.

“I can ask you the same. What is going on with you out there?” Sothis raves. “They are just poachers. You have to kill like an animal to deal with them?!”

She snaps her fingers. Their previous surroundings reappear. Not far away from them, Rodrigue is surrounded by three enemies, whom he should’ve easily dealt with if not having Felix and Dedue to protect. The knights of Faerghus, whose resistance is never an advantage, are being defeated by the magically enhanced weapons. And Felix—Felix is scared, looking at Dimitri with big widened eyes.

“My child can wait! The bandits are trying to kill _you all_ now!”

The exact same thing happened in his past life, too. He was too busy killing the imperial soldiers, seeking revenge and Edelgard’s head on a spear, and totally ignored his allies and charged right into the enemies. Byleth had to follow him, covered him, and even risked her own life to save him from the clutches of death. He remembered how he almost got Sylvain and Felix both killed at Gronder, how Byleth took a hit meant for him, minutes before Rodrigue died in his stead.

And Felix, this Felix. He hasn’t even seen a battle before, and Dimitri has his monstrous instinct all out in front of him and, and, and…

Dimitri’s head hurts so bad. He hears Patricia laughing, her long, delicately manicured fingers on his chin. Lambert mutters pity for Rodrigue and Felix while Glenn and the knights congratulate the boar prince to finally join this new world.

They are too loud, too loud that he can’t even think—

“Dimitri!” Sothis yells at him. Her voice temporarily muffles the ghosts. “Focus on me. On the current surroundings.”

Dimitri pants for air. He wipes off the sweats on his forehead, trying to focus on his breathing—like Byleth taught him before.

_Alexandre, breathe with me. What do you hear in this room?_

Waters drip from invisible ceilings, falling into the puddles on the ancient floor. Scents of moss somehow send his mind to a distant forest. A cold breeze gushes through the throne room illuminated with green lights.

Dimitri’s breaths are ragged, strands of hair stuck on his face, cold—the ghosts mock him, laughing at him, but they are leaving.

Until everything is quiet, and then his family finally leaves him alone.

“I’m ready to go back,” says Dimitri, “I’ll protect my allies first this time.”

\-------

Dimitri feels that vertigo and nausea again when Sothis turns the time back. He is exhausted, drained by the time switch, but he has to continue fighting.

The crown prince stays with the group now, gradually charging towards the enemies. He keeps himself in control though his mind screams for blood. He fights like a classically trained knight though his body demands utter violence to quell its rage.

But he wants to vomit so much. There is something wrong with Sothis channeling even a brief time power through his body, and that is almost killing him.

A bandit smashes his axe at Felix, who barely dodges and swings his blade, making his first kill. His hands tremble when the man slumps to the ground, drenched in his own blood.

“Felix, don’t think about it now,” Dimitri pushes him behind when a whip cracking through the air, flashing with blue light. He isn’t fast enough, legs wobble, and grunts in pain when the magic whip slashes through his abdomen. Blood seeping through his cloak. He feels he’s paralyzed, warm fluid quickly leaving his body.

He hates this small body, hates when he can’t get things in control when he could in the future past. He hates he has failed again, failing to protect his knights, his subjects, and his friends.

“Dima!” Felix cries.

“Dimitri!” Rodrigue cuts through three bandits, rushing to his side. But it was too late; the bandit raises his weapon.

The Prince uses all of his strength to push Felix and Dedue out of the way, bracing for the final strike.

And the dragon roars as if empowered by divine power, regaining energy and fighting off the confines of chains. It raises its gigantic claws, crushing several bandits. The remaining four bandits scream in fear, but before they can flee, the knights have captured them all.

The battle is over.

Dimitri half-kneels on the forest ground, doing a quick headcount. Everyone is alright except for some superficial wounds and burns. He sighs in relief. His body suddenly goes limp.

He’s so tired.

Dedue catches him, laying him down on his Duscur cloak. The ground isn’t cold—covered in a layer of thick leaves.

Rodrigue is almost losing his control. He kneels by the half-conscious, frantically casting a heal spell. Felix has lost all of his tears, shocked by everything that just happened.

Dimitri can hear Sothis shouting at him. The goddess is trying to use another Pulse, but his body is giving out. No more turning back of time. A shroud of dark mist is clouding his thoughts, his mind, his brain in general. The Prince really wants to comfort Felix, telling him it will be okay, but he can’t. He wonders if it’s due to the blood loss or the magic and potential poison.

He hears Christophe and Cassandra leading their knights coming over, shouting things he can’t understand. He senses the dragon approaching, giant wings shrouding the entire group. Its breaths ripple everyone’s hair and cloaks.

Something smells like lavender, covered in the smell of flesh and blood.

It’s all so familiar. Dimitri thinks of the war with Byleth by his side, covering his right that he couldn’t see well. Her scent, the way she watched out for him, shooting a glance at him from time to time to check on his wounds received in battle, casting a heal whenever it became necessary.

The familiarity nudges Dimitri to open his eyes, meeting the giant green eyes of the dragon. He suddenly feels safe.

As if in Byleth’s arms.

This must be death again, right?

Dimitri reaches out a hand, trying to touch the dragon on its cheek, but he suddenly goes limp. The last thing he hears is a song. Someone is singing to him, singing to the knights, too. The sound is so gentle, so ethereal, soothing his pain. Dimitri feels so warm, so warm—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if the adjective form of Duscur should be Duscurian, so I went back to Dedue’s support dialogues. He used the word “Duscur” as adjectives on several occasions, and I don’t think “Duscurian” ever occurred in the in-game dialogues. When saying people/brothers from Duscur, he usually says “men of Duscur.”
> 
> Therefore, when it comes to adjectives, I stick with “Duscur,” but “men and women of Duscur” or “people of Duscur” is too long and I’m lazy, so I use “Duscurians” for people from Duscur :D
> 
> And Catherine is late, like always.
> 
> Also, why the lemon cookies? Because I baked way too many lemon sables the other day. I still have a huge box sitting in my fridge.


	7. The Distance between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain’s A+ parenting. Dimitri follows the twins around and has a rather embarrassing encounter. Something happens between Dimitri and Alex. Dragons are indeed special creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m dying this week. Please forgive all the typos and grammar issues in this chapter. I don’t quite have the energy to proofread this time.  
> Next week I may not update, or it’ll be a rather short chapter, depending on how my grad school application prep goes.  
> Please stay safe. Eat plenty of fruit and vegetable. Get enough sleep. Work out when you can. Wear a mask and get your flu shot!

Dimitri groans when he opens his eyes. Everywhere hurts.

_Sothis, why am I passing out all the time?_

“Because you are damn stubborn and stupid, and you don’t have the Crest of Flames, so our symbiosis is draining you a bit,” Sothis says.

Dimitri is pretty sure the main problem here is his lack of the compatible Crest, though he does admit he took some stupid actions out there just now.

Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex gets all hyped up when Dimitri’s ghost shows up. The dog barks and runs in circles around the late King. When he jumps on Dimitri, trying to get a good head pat or preferably a hug, Lucas is utterly confused when he only gets to touch the air.

Dimitri blinks—so _it is_ true that dogs and cats can see spirits and, in this case, ghosts.

They are in the piano room, where bookshelves are lined with music books. Byleth never had a chance to experience music as a child since she was always traveling with the mercenary group, so when Felix played his violin and Sylvain with his cello, Dimitri saw how much Byleth wanted to learn.

A couple of days after their wedding, Dimitri prepared a surprise for her. He hired a piano tutor and had their family piano tuned, which was apparently left to collect dust after his birth mother passed (goddess forbid that the Blaiddyds touch any musical instruments). One of the few memories Dimitri had of Cecilia was when she held him in one arm, the other hand playing a soft tune on the said piano.

Byleth loved it.

Since then, they went to concerts every week. Neither Dimitri nor Byleth were into opera. _Too much unnecessary death_ , as Byleth put it, _and way too melodramatic_. Felix hummed in agreement (though he _loved_ going to the opera with Sylvain), but Dimitri’s early year education in literature and drama had at least taught him one thing: Melodrama was a form, not a derogatory term.

However, the King decided to say nothing because he got what Byleth was saying.

Lucas whines for the lack of physical contact, ears all droopy and sad. “Where is Sitri?” Dimitri half kneels in front of him, gently cooing. “I bet she’d be happy to give you a hug.”

“Lucas? What are you doing? Was there a bad person that you were barking at?” Then Dimitri hears Sylvain, his cheerful voice echoing in the hallway. “Or even a ghost?”

Lucas jumps onto the ottoman in front of the window, barking at the outside. Dimitri follows Sylvain and sees Sitri sitting by the fountain, holding a broken wooden doll.

_That one_. Dimitri remembers. Before the twins were born, he asked Gustave to teach him wood carving once. Though it was a total disaster since the King couldn’t possibly control his strength, Dimitri did, eventually, manage to carve a small horse for his future baby.

And then they got twins. Alex and Sitri constantly fought over the toys, but Sitri always won ( _to think Alex is the one with the Crest of Blaiddyd_ ). This small horse was something she always held on to.

Sylvain shrugs, patting Lucas’ head, “Yeah, you broke the doll by accident. I mean I get it. You were trying to grab her the horse, and it broke.”

Lucas whines and lowers his head as if feeling guilty.

“She will forgive you, eventually. You wanna go hang out with her?” Sylvain then opens the door to the staircase. Lucas bolts out in a dash, and the Margrave chuckles and follows.

Dimitri is almost on his way to the stairs when he realizes, well, he is a ghost in this world. So he takes the window, drifting down from the second floor.

Sitri isn’t crying. Dimitri finds it very surprising because she’s always a sensitive child, more so than Alex.

He sits down by her side, enjoying the sunshine on a winter afternoon with his beloved daughter. A few seconds later, Lucas shows up in the yard, barking and running around the fountain to cheer Sitri up.

Sitri doesn’t even look at him, so Lucas sits down in front of her, staring at her with both brows droopy like he is about to cry.

“Go away, Lucas,” Sitri mumbles, eye still on the doll. “Go play with Alex.”

Lucas turns his head to the boy. Dimitri sees Alex on the lawn, digging through the snow and into the ground. He wonders what he is doing.

The dog doesn’t move. He slumps to the floor on his side, sighing with content, ready to take a nap.

Dimitri sighs. He thinks of how the whole family used to wrestle with Lucas for fun, weekend nights in front of the warm fire. Lucas loved Dimitri’s big blue cloak lined with fur, the one he wore during the war. Sitri would steal it from his closet while Alex watched out for their parents, and then they would bring the King’s cloak to the dog until a servant found them.

This must be temporary. Sitri won’t hate Lucas for any reason.

“Daddy…” Sitri whispers, fingers lingering on the wooden horse.

_Yes, darling?_

Dimitri smiles, hearing his daughter call for him. He responds with his softest voice though she can’t see or hear him either.

And yet it feels wrong. They should move on. They have to get used to a life without him.

“I miss you.”

_I miss you too, Sitri._

And they just stay there in silence. Dimitri wishes Byleth was here.

Some servants are putting away winter solstice and new year decorations. Ribbons of Blaiddyd blue. Crystal snowflakes decorated with blue gemstones, something so lavish elsewhere that the Faerghans treat as mere glass beads, hung from torches in a frigid courtyard frequented by storms—well, it’s not like Faerghus has anything other than potatoes and gems of the size of potatoes ( _Potato gem? Gem potato?_ ).

_Oh, and killing people at a young age_ —Dimitri thinks sarcastically, but that was before the war.

Something feels strange.

_Sothis, is it already January in this timeline? Five months after I died?_

He has spent no more than four months in the other world.

“Time in different worlds doesn’t usually synchronize,” the goddess replies with a yawn.

_Then is it possible that in the new world when I am still a teenager, Alex and Sitri in this world are already old and walking with a cane?_

“There is a possibility.”

_But I want to watch them grow up._

No response.

_Sothis, will Alex and Sitri be my children again in the new world?_

“Every child is a chance out of a billion possibilities. The twins are that tiny chance squared. It’s near impossible to have them again.”

_But I’m there. Felix is there. And Dedue, Sylvain, Ingrid… Edelgard, too._

“Time has its limit, my dear prince, and time never repeats itself. We only returned to the past of your old life, and the rest is beyond our control. Honestly, we really should name the two timelines. It can get very confusing sometimes.”

_But if I have children with Byleth again…_ Dimitri squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t imagine raising children who are not Alex and Sitri, just like he can’t imagine a woman other than Byleth by his side.

The goddess knows what he’s thinking but doesn’t respond. She looks sad too, and as if trying to divert Dimitri from his depressing thoughts, she points at two figures at a distance, “Ooh, the grumpy one is here with the redhead!”

_They have names, Sothis._

“I know, but this is easier for me,” Sothis pushes Dimitri up from his place. “Go on! They seem to be arguing. I love juicy gossips.”

Dimitri sighs and goes over to his friend, but before he can move, he sees his reflection on the fountain ice. This is the first time he really gets to look at his ghost form. He is still in his late twenties, pale but somewhat radiant, like the images from church scripture, but he’s no saint. There is no halo around his head, and the ugly scars remain. Somehow his right eye is intact, blinking at himself from the reflection.

“Alright my big handsome boy. Stop admiring yourself and just move!” Sothis pouts.

Dimitri walks ( _drifts_ ) to his friends. Felix and Sylvain argue in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to hear.

“I’m serious, Felix! Sitri really wanted Alex to hug her but Alex pushed her away! Again!”

Felix has his forehead in a hand, “You sure they didn’t have a fight?”

“He’s been avoiding touching Sitri since, I don’t know, months ago. Nothing beyond holding hands. I mean—I don’t know. That’s not normal for siblings, right?”

Felix sighs and looks in the direction of the twins. Dimitri knows what they are thinking. Sylvain thinks of Miklan and how, when he visited Fraldarius for the first time, shocked he was seeing Glenn cuddle Felix before bed, reading him knight stories. And Felix thinks of Glenn, how Rodrigue unintentionally neglected him so his brother became his everything.

“Certainly not…” Felix says quietly.

A pang of guilt hits Dimitri in his heart. Glenn died because of him.

What he doesn’t know is that Felix has been feeling guilty _a lot_ as of late. It all started the day after the royal couple’s funeral when maids were dressing the Prince and Princess in the morning. Felix and Sylvain were waiting for the twins in their bedroom, and a maid came to them rather awkwardly.

_“Your Grace… My lord…”_

_“What is it?” Felix raises his head from a report he’s reading._

_“Princess Sitri doesn’t let us touch her hair. The only person who does… did her hair was Her Majesty. Lady Martritz and Lady Dominic are not here today.”_

_A long pause from Felix and Sylvain._

_“Very well,” Felix shuts his eyes, “I will see what I can do. You all can leave for now.”_

_The maids leave, and the couple remains silent._

_“Fuck,” says Sylvain._

_They muster up all of their courage—why they need it, Felix doesn’t quite know—before entering the twins’ makeshift bedroom in their study. Alex stands near Sitri, rubbing his puffy eyes. He’s been crying since their parents’ death._

_“Sitri,” Felix clears his throat, “let me put your hair up.” Her hair is way too long for the little girl to run around without tripping over._

_“I want Mommy to do it.”_

_Felix inhales sharply, almost choked up. Sylvain puts a hand on his back._

_The redhaired man crouches in front of the girl, “Uncle Felix helped your dad with his hair before you were born. Do you want to try that?”_

_That is not even true. Dimitri always did his hair before putting on the eyepatch, and no one, but Byleth had seen his scarred right eye, so how the heck could Felix ever do the hair for him? Felix stares at Sylvain in disbelief, who turns his head back and mouths him, “just-do-it-already.”_

_Sitri relents when Felix gathers her hair. It is hard because it’s just too damn long—Felix’s own hair has never reached his shoulder blades, and this three-year-old has it even longer than his. He fumbles with her blond strands, finally finishing a ponytail._

_“Mom always braids it…” Sitri’s quiet, but Felix still hears her._

_Felix doesn’t even know his voice can be this soft, “I’ll try to learn. You like this one?”_

_Sitri looks into the mirror, “It’s ugly.”_

It’s always the small things that remind him of his inadequacy as a parent.

Will he be the same as Rodrigue, who apparently ignored, if not failed to notice, his son’s grief and pain after Glenn died? The thought scares Felix. He immediately shakes his head as if trying to get rid of the ominous idea.

_Felix then dragged Annette back from the sorcery school to teach him to **braid** , and he’s been practicing with his own hair. Sylvain politely holds his laughs when his husband absolutely messes up his own hair when practicing._

And now he desperately wishes Dimitri and Byleth were here. “They must know what’s going on,” Felix sighs.

_I don’t know either_. Dimitri responds, even though no one can hear him.

Sothis falls asleep later, giving Dimitri space in his past world. The late King follows his children around all day. He knows he’ll be drained and forced back to the new timeline again, but Dimitri is glad he at least gets to stay with the twins even though as a ghost—his father’s ghost has never been kind to him.

He picks up pieces of the children’s life, some he knew and some he didn’t. He watches Sitri playing with the dollhouse Dimitri built for her. He feels a bit left out when he realizes Alex has started lance training with Sylvain.

Dimitri never wanted the twins to touch weapons this young. Now after the mysterious attack and their deaths, it is only reasonable to train the twins early. He wants to laugh that Sylvain is obviously out of practice when Felix defeats him in ten swift moves, and yet it hurts to know Dimitri wasn’t there to guide Alex to pick up a lance for the first time.

Apparently, Felix has tried to teach Sitri swordplay, but Sitri refused. She only watched Felix train.

Dimitri lies in Alex’s bed that evening (somehow Sitri has been sleeping with Lucas in bed lately, and they’ve apparently made up)—of course, with his legs dangling in the air, but since he’s basically floating, it doesn’t quite matter. Dimitri feels too tired, but he can push it a bit longer to spend more time with his twins. He listens to his children’s breathing. It’s comforting, just the way he remembers.

At some point during the night, his son jolts awake from a nightmare. “Daddy…” he sobs.

_It’s alright. I’m right here._ Dimitri has his hand on Alex’s cheek.

Somehow the boy stops crying immediately.

“Daddy?” he sits up from the bed, looking around. “Is that you?”

_Did he hear me?_

Dumbfounded, Dimitri tries again. _Alex? Can you hear me?_

“Dad?” Alex gets out of bed. He grabs the air as if trying to touch his father.

_Alex, come back to bed! You’ll catch a cold._

“Where are you?” Alex slowly makes his way around in the room, eventually to the door. Dimitri isn’t sure if he can hear him anymore, but this is all too confusing. What in the world just happened?

Dimitri frustratingly follows him, cursing his inability to pull the boy back to bed.

When Alex opens the door, he walks in on Felix and Sylvain kissing passionately—too passionate to notice a toddler coming in.

“Do grown-ups kiss all the time?” he asks innocently.

“Whoa!” Sylvain gasps. Felix pushes him away.

“Hey what’s up Alex?” Sylvain winks. He doesn’t have his shirt on. Felix throws a robe over Sylvain’s shoulders immediately. Dimitri blushes and turns around, muttering an apology to his friends.

“I had a nightmare, and I think I heard Daddy talk to me,” Alex rubs his eyes.

“What did he say?” Felix asks, gesturing Alex to come closer.

“I’m not sure… something like my name.”

“Probably just dreaming, huh? Come ‘ere.” Sylvain opens his arms, ready to hug Alex.

But Alex just stares at him, taking a step back, “Mommy and Daddy said I shouldn’t hug and kiss my sister, so I probably shouldn’t hug you either.”

_What?_ Dimitri gapes. _When did we ever say that?_

But that explains something to the three adults in the room.

“Why did they say that?” Felix asks.

“I dunno.”

Sylvain pauses and then asks hesitantly, “Alex, hm… What happened when they told you that?”

“Sitri and I went to their room. Mommy and Daddy were kissing…” Alex thinks, “and hugging.”

_Oh_. Now Dimitri remembers. He wants to die.

“And Daddy didn’t have his clothes on,” the boy adds, “just like Uncle Sylvain!”

And now Felix and Sylvain want to die, too.

Sylvain clears his throat, “Um, Fe, do you want to explain, or you’d rather let me do it?”

“Goddess above, I’m not giving a three-year-old _the talk_ ,” Felix turns his face away. He recalls when he had the talk with Rodrigue. He certainly can’t imagine sitting in Rodrigue’s position, explaining to another child.

Sylvain takes a deep breath. “Alex, see, there are bad people that you don’t want them to hug you. Strangers and even some people you know. Don’t let them touch you if you don’t like it, and you have to tell us. But when it comes to people who love you, we hug and kiss… like your family, your sister, your parents, your friends, and like us. _However_ , that is different from what your Mom and Dad were doing, and what… um, Uncle Felix and I were doing. It’s a very special type of hug and kiss, something only grown-ups who are married and who really, really love each other do.”

_Well not exactly._ Dimitri stares at the redhead. Sylvain is probably the last person to claim such a statement after all the sexual adventures he went on.

“It’s alright if you hug Sitri,” Felix concludes for Sylvain, too eager to end this conversation.

“Fe, I really think I should explain more—”

“When he’s older,” Felix hisses.

Dimitri thinks he’s brain-dead. He doesn’t think Byleth would like their children to learn about sex right now, either.

But Sylvain did manage to explain enough to his son. He thanks him for that.

Sylvain hugs Alex before he goes back to bed. Dimitri follows and smiles when Alex climbs into Sitri’s bed, hugging her tightly. Lucas shifts slightly, sandwiched between their legs.

Sitri stirs in her sleep. “I love you Sitri,” Alex says and then falls asleep.

Dimitri feels his energy reaching a breaking point and returns to the other time.

He doesn’t know that the next day, Felix arranges them to move into another suite. The two bedrooms are separated by a living area. The twins’ room locates at the end of the suite—if something happens, assassins still need to pass the King Regent and the Margrave first. Most importantly, the twins won’t be able to hear the other bedroom anymore, and Felix makes sure all the doors have very sturdy locks.

\-------

When Dimitri opens his eyes again, he is expecting to be told that another three days have passed, but it is mere hours after he passed out.

Rodrigue pulls him in for an embrace immediately after the Prince wakes up. Then it’s Felix.

“Hello, Felix,” there’s a new sentiment that grows in Dimitri’s chest, knowing in another world, another Felix has taken up the role as his children’s guardian, knowing that he loves the twins just like he loved Dimitri when they were younger.

“Don’t do that again, Dima.” the younger Fraldarius hisses, “You can’t… I can’t let you die for me.”

“What happened?”

Rowan the knight points at the dragon, “The dragon started singing when you fell. Somehow that healed everybody.”

Dimitri distantly recalls that someone was singing. So it was _the dragon_? Something of its special abilities? And that beautiful voice?

He stands up, but Felix grabs his arm. “I’m going with you.”

The two boys walk through the woods. The dragon is not far away, lying on the side and licking at its own wounds. Felix slows down when the giant creature is in sight, unsure if it’s reasonable to approach a commonly known dangerous animal.

“Dimitri, what are you doing?!” he yells at the Prince under his breath, who is walking leisurely towards the dragon.

Dimitri isn’t afraid. He holds both hands in the air, showing that he is unarmed. The dragon narrows its eyes, sniffing, and then relaxes a little, giving Dimitri enough of a signal to keep moving closer. He raises a hand, ignoring Felix’s cried warnings, to slowly, slowly make contact with its wing. For a second, the dragon tenses up, looking utterly surprised, but then it lowers its head to the ground as if ready for a nap, looking at the boy with half-lidded eyes.

“You nearly scared the heck out of me! You could’ve got killed!” Felix shouts.

Dimitri looks at the dragon in its eyes, “Is it okay that I let Felix come closer? He’s my friend.” He smooths out the dirt built up in the fissures between the scales, helping the dragon clean out caked blood that it can’t reach, given that its movement is quite confined by the wounds.

Dimitri wonders if the dragon’s songs can only heal other people, just like Flayn’s fortify spell. Maybe only Mercedes has the ability to heal both her allies and herself at the same time.

The dragon lets out a long, loud exhale. That reminds Dimitri of Lucas, often sighing contentedly after slumping to his bed or a rug, so the Prince takes that as a yes.

“Don’t compare my child to a dog,” Sothis finally wakes up, rolling her eyes.

She has mentioned it before. _Your children?_ Dimitri blinks while waving at Felix, “It’s alright. It agrees.”

The dragon immediately flaps its wing at Dimitri, not too harsh to actually hurt him. Felix freezes on his spot.

“They’re quite crossed that you called them ‘it,’” Sothis giggles.

“My apologies,” Dimitri rubs his side where it hurts the most and corrects himself, “Felix, they’ve agreed that you come closer.”

“Are you seriously trying to communicate with a dragon?” Felix’s eyes widen, “Are you crazy, or do you have whatever little brain cells of a boar?!”

Dimitri’s almost missed that nickname though he’s not sure if Felix in this world will really call him as such, but before he can say anything, the dragon reaches out their tail to sweep Felix closer. Felix yelps in both shock and anger. Dimitri thinks the dragon is _chortling_.

Then Dimitri is brought under one of their wings. The two boys sit in silence, both trying to digest the dragon’s behavior.

They are warm, probably due to all the fire in… uh, their belly? Lung?

_Where does a dragon store their fire?_ Dimitri asks.

“In their veins, my dumb princeling, so they won’t accidentally spit fire and roast someone when sneezing.”

They smell a bit bloody because of the open wounds, but besides that, everything smells like grass and lavender. The dragon keeps licking their wounds, humming in satisfaction when they gradually heal—tissues stitch together right in front of Dimitri’s eyes.

“Wow,” is what Felix can mutter.

Dimitri notices how soft the dragon’s voice and sounds can be. He remembers the intimidating roars of Rhea’s dragon form, how they trembled the earth and mountains. This dragon is different. Maybe every dragon is different in their own ways.

“What’s your name?” Dimitri asks. “Surely we can’t keep calling you the dragon.”

The dragon doesn’t respond. Do dragons speak in the first place?

_Sothis, what’s your child’s name?_

A very long silence from the goddess.

“Well, it is better that you do introductions with each other. It’s quite awkward for me to do it for you so you can skip it, right?”

_In other words, you don’t know._

Sothis doesn’t respond.

_Sothis?! What kind of mother are you if you don’t even know your own child’s name?!_

“Blaiddyd!”

Dimitri knows he crossed a line. _My apologies_.

Sothis closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and then sighs, “I wish I remembered. All the pieces of time evaded me since I was put to the long sleep, and all I can remember clearly is the time I dwelled in Byleth’s body. Other things are only flickers of memories. They come and before I can grasp them, they go. All I can do is watch, watching tragedy happening to my children and yet having no power over almost anything.”

Dimitri is silent. They are the same in a way, only able to watch their children from a long distance, divided by time itself.

Somehow, he conjures the power to shatter and pause time, meeting Sothis in that throne room illuminated by green lights. Sothis still sits on her throne, shocked to see Dimitri have broken the confines of the flow of time.

“The two of you never fail to amaze me,” Sothis says, staring at Dimitri curiously. “I guess that’s just what happens to children. You give them life, and they grow into their own individuals beyond your control.”

Dimitri walks up the stairs for the first time. It’s so damn long, taking him forever to reach the top.

And he embraces the goddess tightly.

Sothis freezes but seconds later, she relaxes, clutching to the back of his cloak.

\-------

Later that night, Rodrigue almost has a heart attack when he finds the two boys trapped by the dragon’s tail, but then he sees how relaxed Dimitri and Felix are.

“Thank you for taking care of them for me,” Rodrigue smiles, bowing to the dragon. “I haven’t thanked you formally for saving our lives.” To Dimitri’s surprise, the dragon lowers their head briefly as if bowing back.

They decide to set up a camp for the day after the crown prince orders so. None of the knights wants to leave the dragon, their savior, behind when they are still clearly wounded, and none of them wants anyone from the castle—especially Cornelia—to find out about their encounter in the forest.

Rodrigue and Dimitri are too tired to interrogate their prisoners, wielders of the strange weapons. They’ve tied the bandits to a tree, waiting to be questioned the next day.

Dedue cooks for them, and Dimitri is surprised to see that the knights have accepted this boy from Duscur. They talk about food and the herbs he found in the wild as spice substitutes. They talk about Dedue’s village, his family, and how Dedue’s father died of an accident. Even the dragon listens quietly when they talk.

Feeling a bit wistful, Dimitri keeps thinking about Byleth and their children.

_Sothis, you said time doesn’t repeat itself, so there are other timelines besides this one and the old one._

“Correct.”

_So there have been many Byleths out there._

“Yup.”

_What is she like?_

“Different in different ways, every time, and…” Sothis pauses. “Actually, you were a girl for once or twice.”

_I was a **girl**._

“And the Fraldarius boy has been a girl at some point, too. The same happened to everyone.”

Dimitri tries to picture Dedue as a woman.

_What about Byleth?_

The goddess grins, “Well, I shouldn’t ruin the fun, right?”

_Is my life a theatre production for you?_

“Duh, why would I create human beings if I couldn’t have some fun?”

_Creepy woman_ , Dimitri thinks to himself.

“I can hear you!”

Dimitri has tensed up because of the conversation. Does she mean Byleth can potentially be _a man_?

More importantly, will he still be able to love Byleth if she were a man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to end the chapter with a happy tone. Even the goddess has her trauma.  
> Also, I bet you can tell what I’m doing with Byleth in this lifetime :D


	8. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interrogation goes wrong. Its aftermaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving me support on last chapter. Honestly when I saw some people unsubscribing and deleting bookmarks, I freaked out a bit, although I had braced myself for such an outcome. However, many folks have been giving me kudos since, and I really, really appreciate it.  
> I mean, not everyone ships M!Byleth x Dimitri, but for the genderswap part… You can’t guarantee in your next lifetime, you’ll still have the same gender identity, right? That’s what I believe, especially when Byleth can be either male or female in the game. (It's just a bit too binary though.)  
> Hope you like this chapter. Life is too hard so I’m self-indulging here.
> 
> Trigger warning: violence, blood

The next morning, Dimitri wakes up when he senses something stirring the air. He cracks his eyes open, a hand already on his iron lance, only to relax when he sees the dragon hovering over, looking at him with big emerald eyes. Their breaths gently push Dimitri’s hair and a few leaves away from his face.

He somehow sees Byleth’s eyes, how she gently looked at him with one hand running through his hair, how she greeted him morning with gentle kisses.

“You remind me of someone very dear to me,” Dimitri mumbles. He sounds strangely like Rhea.

Without a reply, the dragon carries him up with their mouth in the back of his cloak. “Ah!” Dimitri yelps in surprise. He panics when thinking about leaving Felix and Dedue, who have been sleeping right next to him, but they are well protected by the knights (and Dedue is not there right now). Dimitri has nothing to worry about.

The dragon silently walks to the river where Rodrigue and two knights are setting up a campfire to cook. Dimitri isn’t surprised when he finds Dedue there. Upon seeing the dragon carrying the Prince like a lioness carrying her cub, Rodrigue chuckles. Rowan and the other knight, Cedric, fail to hold back their laughs. Dedue’s lips tilt slightly—his smile never changes, Dimitri thinks.

He must look ridiculous right now.

The dragon slowly puts Dimitri on the ground and then flies towards the middle of the river, splashing water everywhere when they seem to be bathing.

“Enjoying the new company, Your Highness?” says Rodrigue, and Dimitri sees a glint of _amusement_ behind his decorous expression.

“Please, not you too, Rodrigue,” Dimitri sighs in defeat.

The Duke politely stops talking about the incident.

“Ugh, does this river have fish at all?” Rowan groans as he lifts the net from the river. He only caught a tiny fish and three small crabs, not even enough for one person. Cedric had even worse luck, only a bunch of waterweeds.

Dedue, on the other hand, has dug out some edible roots, but they have a duke, fifteen knights, Cassandra and Christophe’s 50 men and women, three teenagers, and four bandits to feed—a decent ruler should be kind to his prisoners, Dimitri reminds himself.

Oh, and a dragon.

_What in the world do dragons eat?_ If they enjoy eating human beings, certainly this one does not because they have already spared Dimitri and Felix, considering how much tastier the flesh of younglings is compared to the older ones’ dry meat and tough bones. Tender. Juicy.

_Goddess. What am I even thinking?_

Not that Dimitri actually ate people before—nor is he into the idea of cannibalism, but yearling lamb and veal are just more delicious, right?

Before Dimitri’s train of thoughts gets even creepier, the sound of water splashing draws him back to reality. The dragon emerges from the surface, scales dripping droplets of water, and in their mouth are several fluttering herrings, eager to escape for life.

Alright, he doesn’t need to deal with the dragon’s food. Thank Sothis.

Dimitri sighs in relief. He turns to Rowan, “I can try to hunt if that will help.”

“Sure, Your Highness. I shall accompany you,” Rowan responds and places the net on the ground.

But before they can do anything, Dimitri sees the dragon tilts their head, swallowing the fish whole. They seem to realize the human bunch’s predicament and dives back into the water again. When they reappear, about ten fish are thrown in front of Rodrigue. The Duke stares at the jumping, desperate fish in disbelief.

Then more fish rain down. And more.

“Huh, I’d really love to travel with the dragon, Your Grace. We can definitely enlist another knight.” Rowan says.

Cedric shakes his head, “Oh c’mon. You can’t possibly make a living being existed only in legends follow orders, can you?”

“I’m just saying! But the dragon is indeed too kind to us. Why does someone bother to feed a bunch of strangers?”

_Because we saved them, and then they saved us._

Rodrigue nods thanks at the dragon. The dragon hums and lies down in the shallow parts of the river, allowing fresh water to rinse away the caked blood. They seem to like water a lot, just like—

_“I want a hot bath, Dimitri. Will you join me?”_

_“Alexandre, I like the shade of your skin when you’re soaked in warm water. You look so tasty that I want to—”_

No. He can’t indulge himself with that kind of thoughts right now. Byleth is not here. No matter how sweet the memories are, Dimitri feels nothing but pain.

Dimitri picks up a carp, gutting the fish the way Byleth taught him. He has never been good at it, making a bloody mess when he accidentally crushes all of the slippery intestines, but he can always wash the blood away. There is an entire river right there.

He wishes the river could wash away the blood on his hands, too.

The Prince buries himself in the cooking chores, hoping the labor will keep his mind clear, but when he scales the fish, he hears Byleth humming a tune the mercenaries loved to sing. When Dedue cooks the fish with the campfire, he almost sees Byleth and an older Dedue standing right there, cooking for their army. And when the food is ready, Byleth comes over with a bowl and worried expressions hidden beneath her blank face—Dimitri sees them because… Of course he can see his woman’s distress when he has loved her since the academy, more than half a decade into the war.

_Byleth…_

“Your Highness?”

Dimitri finally hears Rodrigue. Apparently, he has drifted into his own thoughts.

“Apologies, I allowed myself to be distracted,” Dimitri resumes his work but finds his left hand bloodied by the scaling knife, too much blood to be the fish’s. He must have accidentally cut himself just now.

Rodrigue extends a hand, green light illuminating in his palm, “Dimitri, let me—”

“No, it’s fine, Rodrigue. We have a long journey ahead, so we need all of our magic reserves. Don’t waste your power on this type of trivial wounds.”

“But Your Highness…”

Dimitri finds a vulnerary in his cloak, carefully pouring some onto his wounded hand to avoid waste. He is all used to tending his own wounds now. Dedue finds clean bandages from Cedric’s supplies. He then helps the Prince wrap up the injured hand. The work is too smooth to come from two boys in their early teens.

Rodrigue watches in silence, eyebrows furrowed. He has the urge to say something, but Felix appears with a yawn, accompanied by several knights and Christophe, who also has to drag a still sleepy Cassandra to get food.

Eventually everyone shows up for breakfast.

Somehow, Dimitri feels hungrier than usual. He can eat an entire boar, for sure, but rations are only that much for everyone. The Prince declines the food Dedue offers from his bowl, lying that he’s had more than he needs.

The goddess eventually wakes up from her beauty sleep, yawning while greeting Dimitri good morning.

\-------

When Dimitri orders food to be sent to the prisoners, no one dares to object, but he can feel the knights’ discontent. These bandits almost murdered their Prince and yet they are being treated so nicely.

The four are tied up to a tree. Upon seeing the leader, Dimitri has to fight back a gasp.

“Kostas?” Dimitri frowns.

The bandit leader blinks, “Oh, hey there. Do I know you?”

“Silence!” Rowan warns, “You are in the presence of the cr—”

Dimitri sends Rowan a look, clearing his throat. The knight bows his head in obedience, understanding his Prince’s intent. It is not wise to reveal his identity.

“Well, I’m very flattered that even some rich noble kid like you know me. Reputation, that is. But kid, I have no trouble with you. You let me and my men go, and then the gold we have is all yours.”

“Where did you acquire the weapons?” Dimitri asks.

“Well, for bandits like us, our weapons are usually just loots. Right, boys?” Kostas turns to the other three bandits, who stare at him for a second and then nod in agreement, hesitantly.

_What a terrible lie_. “Oh? From which part of Fódlan did you _loot_ the weapons?” Dimitri asks.

“Uh—” Dimitri can see wheels turning in Kostas’ little head, “Fraldarius.” Rodrigue quirks his brows. Felix rolls his eyes.

“If the Fraldarius territories one day produced Indra steel, please inform me,” Dimitri says, playing with one Indra steel dagger glowing with light.

“Oh! Not Fraldarius then. My poor memory! It’s from Gideon,” Kostas scrambles to tell another lie.

“All the way across Faerghus from Fraldarius?” Rodrigue shakes his head in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, Gideon only produces grapes, pumpkins, Gwenhwyvar cheese, talented tailors, and seamstresses. Blacksmithing is not their forte,” before Kostas can spit out another fabricated detail, Dimitri grabs a small folded stool and sits in front of the four prisoners.

“Kid, look, don’t your parents want you home on time? Waiting for you for dinner or something?”

“Don’t worry. My father entrusted me to my dear Uncle… Ridge before I went on this task. Is that right, Uncle?” Dimitri turns his gaze to Rodrigue, voice innocent.

Rodrigue blinks, suppressing the urge to laugh, “Yes… that is quite right, my dear nephew.”

Dimitri turns back to Kostas, “So, we have all the time in the world. I can wait until you tell us the truth.”

Silence from the bandits.

Dimitri doesn’t know that Rodrigue has been staring at him since the moment he wounded his hand by accident. “Father?” Felix senses the Duke’s tension.

“Nothing, Felix. Please help me keep an eye on Dimitri,” the father and son talk in a volume that only they can hear.

“Why?”

“One day, you will become his shield.”

“But Glenn…” Glenn will be back and inherit the dukedom. Felix can’t finish the sentence, either out of anger or distress. He turns to join Dimitri, trying very hard to ignore his father.

Kostas finally gives up, “Alright! We only follow orders. They gave us the weapons.”

“Whose orders?” Dimitri asks.

“I don’t know. They all look weird, with some kind of creepy look. Like they’re wearing costumes and masks.”

_Is it possibly Edelgard? And her men?_

Dimitri squeezes his eyes shut. In his previous life, he had started to question Edelgard’s involvement in the tragedy long since he took back Fhirdiad from Cornelia. But is it possibly her? To think a thirteen-year-old to plan such a…

Cedric approaches Rodrigue and Dimitri, speaking something silently only they can hear, “We saw some similar individuals in Duscur. Many of the knights were either wounded or killed by those people.”

_Indeed they were._ Glenn’s arm was wounded by one of them.

Rodrigue’s frown deepens. “What _did_ you see?” he asks Kostas.

“Look, I really can’t say more. They will kill me—”

“My family will protect you _if you cooperate_ ,” Dimitri adds, stressing the condition, “If not, I’ll leave you here and let them find you and cut your throats open…”

Felix flinches. Dimitri decides that it may be too much detail of violence and stops adding more threats.

Kostas’ mouth opens and closes. He stares at Dimitri, “What do they feed you, kid?”

“Welcome to Faerghus,” says Dimitri.

Kostas stares at him for another moment. “Well, if you keep your promise… I guess it’s more like their faces have been transformed into something… different. They are very pale. Like none of them ever saw the sun or something.”

Dimitri asks, “What about their armors?”

“Armors? No. Never saw one. Oh,” Kostas recalls something, “one of them has a very creepy looking eye. Like they squeezed a ball into his socket.”

_Solon._

Everybody turns their gaze at him. Dedue, in particular, has a strange expression on his face.

“Dimitri, you’re thinking out loud,” the goddess kindly reminds him. Dimitri finally realizes he has slipped the name out.

“No, please pay me no heed. It was nothing,” Dimitri pretends to act normal. Now, even Rodrigue has a strange look on his face.

Kostas clears his throat, “Anyway, that really is all I know. And oh, they paid us a lot. I wonder where they got so much money… Some of the coins were from—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence when the sound of metal cuts through the air. Dimitri doesn’t get to understand what just happened before seeing Kostas’ blood spilled across the ground. Some of the warm liquid staining Felix’s cheek.

And before anyone can react, one of the bandits has already cut his ropes loose, his dagger in Kostas’ throat. Then the other two’s heads are slashed open by a sword, dead before they can scream. And Dimitri hears—

“Father!” Felix screams as the bandit yanks him away by his collar, a glowing sword at his neck.

The Duke unsheathes his sword, the knights, men and women from Charon and Gaspard reaching for their weapons, ready to strike back. However, with the second son of the Duke taken as hostage, nobody dares to move.

Fog of dark mist appears. After a few seconds, the bandit has transformed in front of them—pale skin, strange look, he looks just like…

“Solon,” Sothis says.

“Who are you?! _What do you want?_ ” Dimitri demands.

The strange man chuckles, “Here we have the foolish Kostas, who talked too much and yet couldn’t even figure out your identities. Is that what you were thinking, Your Royal Highness?” His eyes turn to the rest of the men. “I know a Knight of Faerghus when I see one.”

“You… you are one of them,” Dimitri’s voice trembles. Many of the knights are ready to tear the man into pieces, avenging their fallen brothers in arms.

“Oh yes, my master ordered me to keep an eye on them, and it turned out to be another flawless move of his,” he says, sword playfully moving across Felix’s throat, threatening to cut through the flesh. The teenage boy grits his teeth, refusing to let out a whimper of panic though his eyes are shining with terror.

“What do you want?” Dimitri asks, voice trembling. He can’t lose Felix. Not here. Not in any lifetime.

“My master ordered us to take the Fraldarius heir and, if possible, the dragon, but Kostas failed. I guess I can return the Fraldarius boy if I brought him the _Blaiddyd_ heir. Master would be very pleased.”

“Over my dead body!” Rodrigue yells.

Something goes dim in Felix’s eyes. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and so he shuts his eyes, ready for his end.

The Prince takes a deep breath.

His lance falls to the ground with a thud, followed by the glowing dagger. He removes his gauntlets, two daggers from his waist, and lets go of Rodrigue, who tries to hold him back.

“Then take me. Let him go,” Dimitri says, voice gentle.

“Your Highness!” Rodrigue pleas. “Dimitri… please, come back!” He tries to grab the Prince once again, but the Crest of Blaiddyd prevails. None of the knights can move without a direct order from Rodrigue or Dimitri, not to mention both the second son of the Duke and the Prince are in the bandit’s proximity…

Dimitri is four feet away from the bandit. Felix’s eyes widen, tears forming in the corners, “Dima, no…”

“It’s alright, Felix. I’ll be alright.”

The bandit pushes the younger Fraldarius to the ground, yanking Dimitri closer. He tries to ignore the despaired Duke and the frantic knights, along with a screaming goddess yelling at him in the back of his head.

_But it is the right thing to do_. Dimitri thinks. To protect his family and friends instead of sending them to their graves, that is his atonement.

Are there any regrets? Yes. Dimitri feels only sorrow, sorrow that he will never get to see Byleth again. He prays to Sothis that Byleth will be happy and carefree in this world. He prays that Byleth finds someone who cherishes her, someone who doesn’t drag her into a war…

He can smell the warp spell in the air.

The dragon roars, wings and shadow cutting through the air. Their gust throws the strange man to the ground, and then beams of bright light flash everyone’s eyes shut, and when Dimitri opens his eyes, he sees a person, green-haired and dressed in the most familiar clothes, quickly disarm the man and immediately lock his throat.

The style of fighting. The footwork. The familiar scent of lavender and grass—

“Byleth,” Dimitri murmurs as if in a dream.

The knights quickly take the man down. Rodrigue runs, almost tripping, to check Dimitri, “Dimitri… Dimitri! Why did you do that?”

But the Prince doesn’t have time to even acknowledge him or the fact that Rodrigue prioritizes him over Felix once again. He probably should comfort Felix first, but…

Dimitri walks towards the person of his dream. _Byleth Byleth Byleth, is that really you?_

And he hears this. “Damnit!” a man’s voice. Sothis has gone eerily quiet since the dragon transforms. It is all so strange. How can Byleth’s voice…

“Tube of poison under his tongue. He’s dead.” The green-haired savior raises their head.

And Dimitri freezes on the spot.

_Sothis, does Byleth have a twin brother in this world?_

But the goddess is quiet.

His savior sighs and stands up from the crouching position. He turns to the crowd, who has been staring at him in disbelief. “Did the dragon just turn into a _man_?!” Dimitri hears Rowan yell.

The man turns back to look at Dimitri, “I should properly introduce myself. I am Byleth Eisner.”

For the first time, Dimitri voluntarily wants to pass out, but his body stubbornly refuses his request.

\-------

“Mr. Eisner, I have to express my utmost gratitude on behalf of House Fraldarius. I could never imagine the consequences if it were not you…”

“Nobody would stand by and do nothing in that situation,” Byleth sounds just so tired.

Dimitri has been hiding at the river after the revelation, eavesdropping on Byleth. He is just unsure how to react in front of him, the _male_ Byleth. Also, why is his heart beating so fast? He doesn’t remember his heart racing when they first met in their last life. Dimitri definitely went all flushed and flustered when Byleth finally turned her gaze at him after defeating Kostas in Remire but certainly not… not like this.

_“Is everyone alright?” Byleth flings her sword free of blood, turning away from Edelgard only to find Dimitri standing nearby. Dimitri swallows. His cheeks turn red and posture stiff and and and…_

“Oh my, not surprising at all. You are the schoolboy in love again,” Sothis says.

_I’m not even sure about my feelings, Sothis. What if… What if it isn’t love? What if I can’t fulfill my promise to her… No, to him, but… he was a woman in the previous timeline so maybe I should say her. Or should I say “they”? But… what does he… she… they… identify with?_ Dimitri’s head hurts.

“He identifies himself as a man this time. He, him.”

_How do you know?_

“It’s my Byleth, dummy.”

_Then why couldn’t you tell the dragon’s identity in the first place? Can you still talk to… him?_

“Well I lost the ability to communicate with him since I got separated from his… well, _her_ body, since we were talking about the old Byleth. And no, I couldn’t even tell which of my kids is which so… you can say I’m basically useless on these matters.”

_I’m scared, Sothis._

“Don’t worry. Let the feelings flow. I say everything is possible since you were a virgin”—Dimitri chokes on his saliva— “when you married Byleth in the past life, and she was… what? Your second crush? You don’t have that much experience with girls, not to mention with boys. You haven’t even explored your sexuality, I mean.”

_Wait wait wait… You saw us… in bed…?_

Dimitri still remembers his wedding night. It went… a bit too over the board (and that is probably an understatement) that half of the castle knew neither of them slept that night. He still feels abashed thinking about how they had to face _Felix_ and a winking Sylvain the next morning.

“That is your focus?! I’m not a creep, okay? But when you’re stuck inside someone’s head, you can do nothing but try very hard to ignore everything that is happening! Also, I created the human reproductive biology, so there is nothing to hide away from me.”

A long pause from Dimitri, who clearly needs the time to calm himself down not to think about the goddess watching them having a very debauched sex.

_But it… it feels like cheating._ Dimitri sighs.

It takes the goddess a moment to understand what Dimitri means. “The two Byleth’s share the same soul, Dimitri. Maybe they’re a bit different in some way, but they are the same person.”

_What if she… **he** , doesn’t love men?_

But before Sothis can answer, someone has approached him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” says Byleth.

“Ah!” Dimitri falls from the dried tree trunk. He embraces for impact but nothing happens. Dimitri looks up—Byleth has him in his arms.

Close, too close. So close that if Dimitri raises his head just a tiny bit, their lips will touch. Dimitri wonders if those lips are as soft as he remembers, as warm as in their last life. He can see his reflection in Byleth’s eyes, the green irises a shade so nostalgic. His expression… oh dear Sothis almighty, stern and emotionless and yet it sends back memories. Something so endearing comes from that face, that _handsome_ face (to think this is only the _teenage_ Byleth!). And the scent… Lavender and grass are what he is familiar with from his wife, but petrichor and forest are… something that only belongs to _this_ Byleth, the Byleth who doesn’t even know him yet.

Maybe he has already left a poor impression. Getting startled. Falling from a tree trunk when being approached. Calling the dragon “ _it”_. And so stupidly offering himself in exchange for Felix, not even considering the consequences (though Dimitri never regrets it) …

Dimitri closes his eyes, cheeks all flushed, and prays to Sothis to save his damaged first impression, if that is even possible.

“Are you alright? You seem in… distress,” Byleth asks, yet to let go of Dimitri. His voice is deep but gentle.

“I’m alright. I’m alright. Yes, I’m totally alright,” Dimitri frantically repeats himself, ignoring Sothis’ cackles.

Byleth hums, helping Dimitri regain his balance to sit back straight again, but he doesn’t let go of Dimitri’s neck. “Bel… Prof…” Dimitri almost bites his own tongue, “Byleth?” This one is correct.

Byleth moves his hand away immediately, but Dimitri already misses his touch. “Forgive me, I didn’t ask for your permission before touching you.”

“No, it’s totally alright! Definitely totally alright! A hundred percent.”

_Princeling, stop repeating yourself. I can’t even watch._

_Go away, Sothis._

_Don’t you dare use that tone at me!_ But Sothis relents anyway, grunting and disappearing into the deep of his head.

Byleth tilts his head, staring at Dimitri’s burning face for a moment, “Are you having a fever?” He places his forehead on Dimitri’s. The younger boy freezes once again, feeling too overwhelmed breathing in Byleth’s breaths. It only lasts a few seconds.

“You do feel a little hot,” Byleth says, then moves the hand back to Dimitri’s neck. “Does it still hurt?”

Dimitri blinks, shivering under the touch, “How… how do you know?”

“I’m sorry that I sent the gust a little too much, making you strain your neck but… it was the best I could do,” before Dimitri can say anything, Byleth is already channeling power into Dimitri’s body.

It’s so warm. Dimitri remembers the magic from other heelers. Mercedes’ feels refreshing. Annette’s feels sweet, somehow. Sylvain’s makes him a little bit giddy, while Felix’s heal spells is somewhat too aggressive, as if his only objective is “get this stupid person out of their shitty state and send their ass back to the battle”, giving no heed if the receiver can take something that strong all at once.

Byleth’s is soothing, like a warm afternoon in Fhirdiad. But this Byleth… somehow that power is warmer, more powerful, with something new that he is yet to register. _Do people’s power differ from timeline to timeline?_ Dimitri wonders. _But Rodrigue’s is just the same… And Liam’s…_ He remembers how many times Glenn took him to Liam after chaffing his knee.

He has forgotten the passage of time when Byleth’s magic stops. Dimitri sighs, partly in relief and partly yearning for more.

“You haven’t had a good sleep since long ago, have you?” Byleth asks, face still blank and yet actions caring so much.

Dimitri blinks. How does Byleth know? “Yes… ever since…” he didn’t trust Byleth that much when they first met, never telling her about the tragedy until later that school year, and never about his nightmares until the war. And yet he is telling the new Byleth everything now. “Ever since the day… I lost my father and step-mother, in Duscur.”

Is it because of the dim twilight or the shades they’re under? Why does Byleth look so pale? So pale that he seems…

“May I?” Byleth gestures to his hands. Dumbfounded, Dimitri only nods. Then Byleth takes one hand into his palms, _kissing_ his fingers so gently. Dimitri feels that warm power going directly to his temple, chasing away all the migraine and tension. It gets stronger when the lips move to his palm. Eventually, he dozes off right there on the trunk, leaning into Byleth’s shoulder.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd realizes one thing that day: He is still madly in love with the new Byleth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey we've waited for a bit just for this moment, right?
> 
> My school projects are a bit crazy this week, and one homework involves learning to make paper from scratch. I have no idea what to do now. All hail to the art school professors.
> 
> May Sothis bless us a happy Tuesday this week. I don’t want to be political here, but dear goddess, don’t let it ruin my good mood to write the next chapter.


	9. Our Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has an unwanted visitor.  
> Byleth tutors Felix, who confronts Dimitri, who confronts Dedue. All of them have some realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy jslkdfjiowerkj!!! Thank you so much for reading. Enjoying writing is one matter. Having people who read and respond is another! Your support really means a lot to me!
> 
> Many people have mentioned how much they dread we won't have Alex and Sitri in the plot anymore. I promise, the twins will play a BIG ROLE. I mean it. The old timeline still exists for a reason.
> 
> Also, what are your thoughts about the past timeline? Do you like it so far? To be honest, when I started this fic, I was a bit unsure if you might find the twins boring and skip their sections. I've read so many fics about dimileth's children but rarely any of them interests me enough to get me hooked. I hope this isn't boring for y'all.
> 
> TW: homophobia, mild sexual content (not enough to bump up the rating), implied past suicidal attempt  
> (Should I tag homophobia for the fic? Suggestions?)

People in the court have all heard that Margrave Sylvain José Gautier and the former Margrave, Aldric Osmund Gautier, stopped talking years ago. However, the details of the father and son’s relationship rarely interest the gossipy people at Castle Fhirdiad because everyone knows exactly why Aldric left his territories days after the war ended after servants in the Gautier Mansion saw Sylvain and Felix entered the old Margrave’s study for a _talk_ one night.

People from the court know exactly where Aldric is after numerous witnesses found him passionately debating “the importance of Crest values” in the city center of Enbarr on many occasions, so Dimitri actually urged him to come back with letters and messengers. However, the old Margrave only told the King that he’d rather have his degenerate, useless son to inherit his title than going back.

(Dimitri sighed. “Degenerate” and “useless” weren’t the words Aldric used. He knew better than direct quoting the exact words to Felix and Sylvain.)

Therefore, people know exactly why Aldric swore to people that he would no longer return to Faerghus, not even for his son’s wedding. (That’s exactly the reason Aldric left in the first place.) After disappearing and neglecting his duty for a year, King Dimitri signed a decree, naming Sylvain the new Margrave Gautier to deal with the rising conflicts on the border of Sreng.

Therefore, when a messenger from Enbarr shows up at Castle Fhirdiad, Felix is surprised to find out that the former Margrave will be visiting the crown prince in a few days.

_This is not good._ Felix knows something will happen, but he isn’t sure what. Sylvain rarely talks about his family to avoid the mention of unpleasant memories, so all Felix has heard about the former Margrave Aldric Gautier is how he encouraged Miklan’s hatred for Sylvain.

After meeting with the messenger, the King Regent considers sending the young Margrave a letter. Sylvain, accompanied by Ingrid, went back to handle some affairs mere days ago. It’s already February. Farmers need aids to plan for plowing the field and planting new crops. Gautier suffered from excessive rain last year. Then the royal couple died. People need their lord’s help.

As the Prince and Princess’ guardian and the Regent, Felix can’t leave the capital, so Sylvain will handle his work in Fraldarius, too.

There is too much to be done. Felix doesn’t have the luxury to call back his husband, though he has started missing him terribly.

_No. If I let him know his father will be here in a few days, Sylvain will ride back immediately like a madman._

Felix shakes his thought away. He summons the head maid and butler to prepare for the retired Margrave’s arrival. And yet one thought keeps bothering him, _why visiting now_?

Dimitri opens his eyes only to find out Aldric’s carriage arriving at the castle. The confused ghost watches as the attendants open the door and follows as a servant leads the older Gautier to his room.

Aldric Osmund Gautier takes his time, as Felix finds out. He doesn’t request an audience with the King Regent at once. He doesn’t push when the servants tell him the Crown Prince is training. He simply stays in his room, drinking a cup of tea.

The King Regent is still in a meeting when an assistant informs the former Margrave’s behavior. The conference has dragged on an entire day, and Felix grows more suspicious when he hears about how calm Aldric seems to be. He has put two Knights of Faerghus on babysitting duty—one of them is, _of course_ , Gilbert—since the Regent trusts no one but the Knights to protect the twins in his absence. However, just in case Gilbert decides to train the two three-years-old with his draconian methodology that Felix and Dimitri know too well, the worried surrogate father brings in another person.

Flayn does help Felix quite a lot especially in Sylvain’s absence, reading stories to Alex or taking Sitri out on her pegasus, but whenever Flayn is here, the Regent constantly finds himself hosting another important guest, and that guest comes from Almyra.

Apparently, everyone from their circle but the Church has been aware of Flayn’s relationship with Claude. The priestess visits Fhirdiad to look after the twins, and that is what Seteth needs to know. Flayn would arrive at the castle before Claude visits a couple of days later. The Almyran King would stay for another few days before going back to his kingly duties, snuggling up to Flayn _everywhere_ in Castle Fhirdiad whenever no servants are around.

Felix has warned them many, many times, but Claude always responds with that annoying grin. He knows the King Regent wouldn’t dare tell Seteth because if he did, the all murderous bishop would show up with his lance on a wyvern’s back in mere hours, ready to claim the King’s head. That will not just be a mess. That’s a fucking _international political crisis_.

The last thing Felix wants is Nader showing up with an Almyran army, avenging their murdered King.

The meeting is finally over at midnight. Felix sighs in exhaustion and pulls off his hair tie, allowing his hair to fall to his shoulders. On the table sits a letter from Claude, informing his safe return to Almyra. Then there are piles of documents—Dimitri sees a lot about the armory, military rations, and recruit plans.

Earlier that day, Dimitri sat in the council meeting for a brief moment. Apparently, the nobles all believe preparing an army is unnecessary right now since there is no trace of enemy attack anywhere in Fódlan. Felix and Count Galatea were the only major lords who argued the late King and Queen’s murderers still posed a threat.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” a general says, “but should we be considering… other explanations for King Dimitri and Queen Byleth’s… death?”

“What is your explanation?”

The lords look among themselves until finally, a bold one says, “You remember the legend of the Valley of Torment, Your Grace?”

_The same javelins of light._

Felix clenches his fists under the table, “Are you implying that many of you believe the King and the Archbishop were killed because of _divine punishment_?”

Dimitri can’t listen anymore. He leaves the Regent to look for his children.

After the meeting, the very tired King Regent sits alone in the dark room for another moment, completely unaware that his dead friend has returned back to the council room and is actually sitting next to him as a ghost.

Dimitri only wonders what Felix is thinking about right now. He has not seen Felix this tired for a long time.

Felix picks up the twins from Gilbert, glad to find out that Flayn didn’t try to feed them anything she cooked. Alex sleeps on his left shoulder like a bag of potatoes while Sitri in his right arm. Dimitri follows him in the hallway as the raven-haired man carries the children back to their quarters. He feels both warm and a pang of jealousy: Dimitri can see how much devotion Felix has to his children, but he wants to be part of that life, too.

In the dark hallway, Dimitri hears Felix curse under his breath, “Damn boar, I should probably beat you back to life to carry your little boars. They’re getting…” Felix shifts Alex on his shoulder, “heavy.” The children are fast asleep to hear the crude words.

_I wish I could, Felix._

Felix can’t hear him. He drags his tired body, where two other smaller bodies hang from, back to him and the _new family quarters_ , as Dimitri hears Felix refers to as such (Dimitri feels another pang), only to find the former Margrave awaits, whom Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex has been keeping an eye on. The dog refuses to turn his gaze away from the said man, scrutinizing him with suspicious eyes.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Aldric greets.

Felix hums in response. He doesn’t want to fake amiability after their last meeting was rather, well, hostile. Aldric almost wrecked the house after Sylvain told him he and Felix were dating and that they didn’t give a fuck about his opinion.

Felix simply goes straight to the nursery. The former Margrave follows, watching Felix tuck the children in bed by the door—he tries to set foot in the room but Lucas hisses at him as a warning. _So maybe the pet dog isn’t that useless._ Felix thinks.

Aldric’s eyes are full of strange emotions, but they disappear when Felix turns back to him. And yet the look has already crept Dimitri out.

_He is after something._

Felix closes the door, finally talking in normal volume. “What are you doing here? It’s late,” he asks.

“I have not spoken to you since I arrived, have I, Your Grace?”

“Then you could’ve joined the council meeting today. Nobody would raise an eyebrow if you were there.”

“I have not met with the Crown Prince once, so I figured I could see him here.”

“Dimitri invited you many times to the twins’ birthday celebrations, and yet you never bothered to come. If you’re only here to feed me with lies, then good night, Margrave Gautier.”

Aldric stops him before Felix can turn away, suddenly switching to his first name, “Say, Felix, has Sylvain mentioned anything about his _heir_? Surely someone needs to take up the duties as the next Margrave.”

Felix narrows his eyes, his exhaustion is giving way to simmering anger, but the children are next door. He can’t risk wakening and frightening them with a fight. “You should talk to Sylvain. He is the lord of the Gautier territories.”

“Then you two have talked about it. What are your plans, Felix?”

“Are we even on a first name basis?”

Felix turns but hears the man asks, “Is he going to take a wife?”

The raven-haired man snaps, “ _We_ are married.” His thumb runs on the wedding band subconsciously as if seeking Sylvain’s presence.

“He needs a woman. One day when he’s tired of his whimsical idea of _love_ , he will take a woman. You know the way he was before.”

_The twins are sleeping next door_. Felix inhales and exhales, deciding not to argue here. He turns and goes to his bedroom.

“And by that time, you won’t become his obstacle, will you Felix?”

Felix slams the door shut.

He can’t sleep that night. He can’t even summon the courage to cry. The King Regent has to stay strong.

Felix sits on his side of the bed, his gaze constantly falling on the other side—Sylvain’s side. He slips a hand underneath Sylvain’s pillow. It’s cold—no trace of that man’s body temperature. Not even the scent of bergamot in the sheets the servants just changed.

He feels so hollow.

Dimitri stays by his side. He wishes Felix knew that he isn’t alone.

Felix opens his eyes a few hours later after drifting into a weird realm of void for who-knows-how-long. He’s not sure if that counted as sleep when he was aware of every second that passed, but he is immediately sent into a stupor when Sylvain emerges from the door, panting on his way in.

“Sylvain?!” Felix is pulled into a tight embrace. Sylvain is sweaty, and there is a weird smell… like a spell. Felix wrinkles his nose, “You warped back?”

Sylvain is still out of breath. “Technically, I warped… five times… to get back. The spell—and the mages, couldn’t… get too far. Sothis… almighty! Warping… didn’t… feel good.” The young Margrave suddenly rushes to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet. Felix gets out of bed, Dimitri follows, and they both pat Sylvain on the back.

No one from the Blue Lions learned the warp spell, so this must be Sylvain’s first time. Dimitri had an experience in the academy when Lysithea was learning the spell with Professor Hanneman. The Prince naively offered himself as her practice subject and later stayed in the infirmary for a week after the young warlock accidentally warped him to the rooftop from where Dimitri fell off.

Where is Lysithea anyway? Dimitri wonders. After the war, Claude has been in contact with every other Golden Deer student, but he never got a letter from Lysithea.

After retching for a couple of minutes, Sylvain finally feels better. Felix fetches him a cup of water and a clean towel.

“Thanks, Fe.”

Felix kneels next to him, humming a response. He runs a hand through Sylvain’s tangled hair, apparently tousled during warping, and that hair… It reminds Felix of the older Gautier. Then the Duke suddenly recalls his conversation with Aldric last night, and it is just…

“Did my father give you any trouble?”

Felix’s hand pauses.

“He did, right?” Sylvain’s eyes darken.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Felix, I know my father. I know how much he can hurt people.”

“Why did you come back? The work is done?”

Sylvain stands up, pulling Felix in for another hug. “He sent me a message before he left Enbarr. I… I had to come back to you.”

“Sylvain! You know I can handle it! But people in our territories can’t!”

“Fe, I made arrangements. Ingrid totally understands, so she’s covering for me.”

“This… this may be his plan! Whatever he’s thinking, he might just want you back and… trap you in some way and…”

“I can’t leave you alone with him. We need to face him together, Felix. This is about us.”

“But…”

Sylvain seals the younger man’s words with his lips. The kiss starts intense but gradually melts into something gentle. Long and soft.

Dimitri smiles. He leaves to give his friends some privacy.

“Fe, my dear Fe,” Sylvain slowly breaks the kiss, his lips trailing the shape of Felix’s ear, “our territories have a hundred solutions, but I only have one _you_. Just… let me be selfish once, okay?”

Felix pauses, and the next second, he starts tearing Sylvain’s cloak away, then his armor, his shirt. “Take me to bed,” he pecks on his neck, earning a moan from the other man.

When Sylvain enters him, Felix shudders in the temporary pain but melts in his husband’s warm body. His face contorts at the intrusion, so Sylvain pauses, leaving gentle kisses all over Felix’s face, whispering his love.

Felix loves being enveloped by his body, his heat. He remembers their first kiss in the academy, how gentle and soft Sylvain was when he captured his lips. He remembers their first time during the war after Sylvain nearly died to protect him. “I’m ready, Syl.”

“Are you sure?”

Felix responds by rolling his hips, surprising a choked whimper out of Sylvain. “Please, give me all of your love.”

Sylvain starts at a slow pace—slow but accurate and deep as if trying to imprint his love in the younger man’s soul. Felix cries out in pleasure. He feels he’s basking in the afternoon sun in Fraldarius when they were still young, and things were still simple. He dreads the hollow feeling that constantly haunted him recently, and yet the man pounding into him makes him so safe. So _full_.

Felix doesn’t think he will last long. “You’re mine,” he chokes out a cry, nails digging into the man’s back, arms tightening around his torso, “my Sylvain—mine only.”

Sylvain’s breaths have become quick and ragged, “Yours. All yours. And you’re mine.”

Felix’s vision turns white when he reaches his euphoria, shaking in Sylvain’s arms. Sylvain follows, biting into Felix’s shoulder to muffle his cries of ecstasy.

After a while, their pants calm down, breaths stable eventually. They are both hot and sweaty, bodies sticky from their chase of pleasure. Sylvain still lies on top of Felix’s body. He tries to roll off, but Felix refuses to let him go, clinging to him tightly.

Sylvain sighs. He runs a hand through Felix’s hair, admiring how soft and silky the dark strands are, and the other hand caresses the younger man’s cheek lovingly.

“Fe, I don’t know how he tried to poison our relationship but know that I will never let you go. In this life, and in all the lifetimes that will come.”

Felix buries his face in Sylvain’s chest, hiding the tears in the corner of his eyes.

\-------

Dimitri wakes up by the campfire, disoriented. What is Aldric Gautier after? His head hurts. He needs to check on the children. His children…

No. He’s back in the new world. He remembers how he fell asleep by the river with Byleth by his side, and yet now he is wrapped in a cloak with the symbol of the Crest of Fraldarius—too small for Rodrigue, so it clearly belongs to…

_Felix pulls Dimitri in for a tight embrace. He’s trembling—Dimitri realizes—trembling, and something is dampening his hair…_

_He’s crying._

Dimitri blinks, “Sothis, is this what you saw?”

The goddess hums.

“The Fraldarius boy found you and Byleth sleeping by the river, and he thought you two were dead.”

_Oh._

Dimitri gets up, looking for Felix and Byleth. “How long was I out, Sothis?”

A deep voice replies, “About two hours, Your Highness.”

Dimitri tenses.

Dedue has been hearing him talking to Sothis the entire time. He is tending the fire, making sure the Prince doesn’t freeze in his sleep. “De… Dedue,” Dimitri stutters, “Have you seen, um, Felix and… Byleth?”

“Mr. Eisner woke up a while ago. I believe they went out sparring.”

“Thank you, Dedue. I’ll look for them.”

“Then allow me to accompany you, Your Highness.”

And one question crosses through Dimitri’s mind. _Isn’t Dedue’s manner of speaking too… refined?_ It took Dedue quite some time to grasp it in his past life, and… _Didn’t it take Dedue two years to look me in the eyes_?

“Do you think he’s also from the last timeline?” Sothis hums with curiosity.

_I should be the one asking you the question, Sothis._

“I don’t even know if there is the possibility, since no mortal but you have actually traveled between two times,” Sothis says.

“Forgive me if I’m probing, Your Highness, but were you… by any chance, talking to somebody?” Dedue asks.

“Oh shit,” in their short time of symbiosis, Dimitri has come to realize that the goddess of Fódlan never hesitates to curse.

_What do I say, Sothis?_

“Well, he’s Dedue, right? Surely he wouldn’t mind you having hallucinations or things.”

_This isn’t funny, Sothis. He heard me talking to **you**. I said your name just now._

“Don’t worry. He wouldn’t think you’re really communicating with me. People think it is faithful to talk to the goddess, but it is… another thing if you hear me talking to you.”

Dimitri decides to ignore Sothis for now because he has paused for too long to mentally communicating with the goddess, and because she isn’t helpful at all. “You probably heard me praying to the goddess Sothis, Dedue.”

Dedue looks at him and after a moment, he nods slowly, obviously unconvinced. “It may not be my position to say so, but please do not hesitate to let me know if you need to talk to someone. You have us.”

Dimitri blinks.

_It was the cathedral. Dimitri hunched over the broken altar, muttering silent pleas to his family. Memories of that time are blurry to him now, but Dimitri always remembered how Byleth stayed in the other corner every night and how Dedue’s footsteps lingered in the room, his loyal vassal and friend checking on him every other hour._

_“Your Highness, you’ll always have us,” Dedue beckoned shakily._

_“Dedue…please.” Let me go. But Dimitri couldn’t finish that sentence. It was a particularly difficult night. He lost too much blood, too much for a normal man to stay alive, and yet he still lived. How ironic. Dedue cradled his half-limp body in his arms while Byleth waved spells over spells to keep him conscious. “Please, Your Highness, stay with me. You have us. You’ll always have us. Please, Dimitri… Please…”_

It was the first time Dedue ever called his name.

“Thank you, Dedue,” Dimitri says. He needs to confirm something later.

\-------

“Again,” Felix grits his teeth and grabs his sword from the ground. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, hair steaming in the cold air. Byleth, apparently, just disarmed him.

The older teenager flings his sword in the air though there is no blood that needs to be cleaned, a move that reminds Dimitri of the other Byleth, of their past together.

“It’s already too much for you today, Felix.”

“No, I have to get stronger as soon as possible. One more round.”

“Then you have to save up energy for your training tomorrow. Regularity over intensity,” says Byleth, still deadpan.

“He’s right, Felix,” Dimitri says, appearing from the bushes. Dedue follows. Dimitri notices how Dedue’s expression slightly changes when seeing Byleth, as if the Duscur boy is too confused to say anything.

Byleth and Felix turn their gaze at the two, the latter narrowing his eyes. And before anyone can react, Felix strides across the clearing and shoves Dimitri to the ground.

“Felix!” Dedue panics.

“Felix…”

“Shut up, boar,” Felix straddles his chest, both hands gripping his collar tightly, “What the hell did you think you were doing today?!”

“What… what did I do?”

“That weird bandit!”

“Oh,” Dimitri blinks, not sure why he is so angry, “I was trying to… protect you?”

Dimitri sees fury in the younger boy’s eyes. Felix grabs his collar upward, shaking and yelling at the top of his lungs, “I don’t need your death in exchange for mine, you stupid fucking boar! Don’t you understand?!”

Dimitri freezes. Everyone is silent. Felix’s chest heaves in anger, but it pauses a when he realizes tears are falling down his cheeks and turns away to wipe them clean.

Felix stands up to walk away. Dimitri immediately gets on his feet, moving to follow, “Felix—”

“I’m hungry. I’ll check what they’re cooking,” says Felix, without looking back at Dimitri at all.

The young Prince stops. He knows Felix needs a moment to himself.

And when Felix’s footsteps disappear in the woods, Dimitri hears a “thud.” He turns only to find Byleth kneeling on the ground, supporting his weight with the sword.

“Byleth… What’s wrong?” Dimitri rushes to his side. He realizes, again, how pale Byleth seems and how shaky and cold those hands are.

“I’m alright,” Byleth wipes a trail of blood clean from the corner of his mouth.

“No, you’re not,” Dimitri helps him move to an elm tree, refusing to loosen his grip on Byleth’s shoulder. The older teenager frowns, gaze falling on Dimitri’s hand.

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t…” Dimitri withdraws his hand like a burning reflex, “but, are you really alright?”

Byleth sighs, leaning back against the tree, “I’ve been like this since I was born… just easily tired in this form. It’s easier for me to stay as a dragon.”

_Huh_ —Dimitri hears the goddess hums in the back of his head— _something like that can happen to my children but_ … She tries her best to remember. _But it can’t be… Byleth can’t… No, my head hurts._

“Can you…” _transform back to the dragon?_

Byleth knows what Dimitri is suggesting, “No. Transformation into the dragon form and back to man takes up too much energy. I don’t have it yet.”

“Why?”

Byleth shakes his head, sighing in exhaustion. Dimitri unties his cloak, wrapping around Byleth’s torso. “I’m used to the weather. You need it,” Dimitri says when Byleth tries to stop him. Then he picks Byleth up with ease. “Let’s get you back to the camp, shall we? You’re freezing here.”

Byleth nods, closing his eyes.

Dimitri keeps thinking about Byleth’s transformation. If he’d been stronger, Byleth wouldn’t have had to transform back to the human form, right? He didn’t need to fight for Dimitri and Felix, and he wouldn’t have been drained like…

“Dimitri?”

“Yes, Byleth?” Dimitri can’t help smiling. He remembers carrying Byleth back to their chambers after a long day’s duties as the Archbishop. A distant but loving memory.

“Don’t blame yourself for anything. I transformed not just to save you, but also the knights,” somehow it seems Byleth can read his heart. Dimitri tenses. “If I stayed as the dragon, I may accidentally step on someone, right?”

Dimitri’s heart flutters, looking into his eyes, and yet Byleth continues as if seeing none of his expressions. “Just… don’t think too much about it. Promise?” He used almost all of his strength to raise a hand, patting Dimitri on the head.

The Prince nods with a blush, “I promise.”

\-------

After checking on Felix after dinner, Dimitri makes sure Byleth gets plenty of blankets from the convoy. The older teenager soon falls asleep out of exhaustion. Rodrigue comes by, worried about their savior and new friend, and helps heal any remaining wounds on his body.

For the first time, Dimitri has the opportunity to observe the new Byleth’s appearance. His chin is not yet refined, with a bit of baby fat on the side of his cheeks. He is shorter, just a little taller than Dimitri. From what Dimitri can see, Byleth seems to have less scars than in the last lifetime (the young Prince is glad), and his hands are so much smoother. Perhaps this is due to the dragon’s healing ability?

Byleth, in this world, can turn into a dragon. Dimitri still finds it unbelievable.

He notices Dedue’s gaze from the campfire not far away. The teenage boy from Duscur has been watching over him, almost like a mother…

He needs to confirm. Dimitri exhales before standing up.

_Wait, princeling. What are you doing?!_

“Dedue, with me please,” Dimitri totally ignores Sothis’ protest. The other boy freezes briefly and, after a moment, nods in response.

_If I’m wrong, you’ll use a Pulse for me._

“Wait a second. You can’t possibly ask me to—” Sothis screams when Dimitri stops listening to her. “Blaiddyd! Ugh, you two are _the end of me_!”

Just when the Prince and the boy from Duscur stop in the clearing where no one can see them, Dimitri suddenly launches an attack at Dedue—not aiming to harm, but aiming to test, just like what Byleth used to do with them.

Dedue’s eyes widen, but his body reacts before his mind does. He easily takes the Prince’s assault, blocking his move with his forearm before initiating his attack, _Fierce Iron Fist_. Dimitri grins. He dodges it easily, and Dedue seems to realize what they’re doing and stops.

“Dedue, how long do you think you can keep it away from me that you are also from the future?”

The older boy gasps. “Your… Your Majesty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about Dedue.
> 
> Edited: I often go back to previous chapters to fix some awkward word choice, typos, and grammar mistakes. Please don’t be alarmed if the word count changes:) I’ll let you know if I edited something plot wise but I doubt I’ll do that.


	10. Imaginary Friend (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince and the vassal have a conversation. Dimitri plans for his bandit-killing gang. More fluff between dimileth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5000 hits! Thank you so much for reading! Just thinking about people are reading my stuff makes me so happy.
> 
> This update is a bit later than usual. I had an eye infection this week. It’s nothing alarming but I usually get it once every year when I’m too stressed. (What a nice annual alarm clock.) I would correct the grammar later.
> 
> Man, isn’t Rhea scary in CF. I finally finished the route. My comment on CF? “Edel, you probably need a better advisor than someone like Hubert.”

“What happened that day?” Dimitri asks.

He and Dedue sit in the clearing, staring at the campfire in a distance. It’s late in the evening. The Prince can’t tell what his friend’s visage, but shadow with faint flickers of light casts on his face.

After Dimitri finally confronted Dedue, silence has fallen upon them. It’s inevitable—to think he died and then his friend died after preventing his children’s death and presumably after witnessing his wife’s death, and now they are back together as buddies in a new world?

This is surreal. They just need a moment.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but my memories have been… quite blurry after the royal entourage was attacked. Then the assassination… I thought I fell asleep, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the village and my sister.”

Dimitri is silent. It might be the best, not knowing the details of Byleth’s death.

They stare into the darkness for another moment.

“What about you, Your Majesty? None of us knew what happened in your carriage, and Her Majesty’s orders were quite strange that day,” Dedue asks.

Dimitri hasn’t tried thinking about that day since he came to the new time. It’s the same reason as to why he doesn’t want to recall the day of the Tragedy, but strange—as Duscur left him all the vivid and bloody images and screams, he can’t recall exactly what happened that day. He remembers there was light. He remembers Byleth’s screams. He threw his body over his wife and children, and that’s it.

“Strange,” part of Dimitri wants to remember, but the absence of memories may be bliss, “I can’t… seem to recall, either.”

Sothis yawns, “That sounds quite familiar, doesn’t it? I can’t seem to recall my life. Just like you two.”

“You can’t recall, either, Sothis?” Dimitri asks. “What do you remember?”

“It’s all quite fuzzy. I remember a bit of this and a bit of that, but none of them connect with each other.”

“And… why did you go to a long sleep?”

“I don’t know,” the goddess sounds sad. The conversation goes on.

Once again, Dimitri forgets that Dedue is sitting by his side, watching him talk to the air. The vassal’s expression first turns surprised since Dimitri has never talked to the goddess or offer prayers before. It might be a good sign—being religious is probably better than being… Well, maybe not, Dedue decides, because Dimitri is actually getting responses and having a conversation with Sothis, as if this is totally normal. This is not the angry ghosts yelling at him. This is not the repetitive laughs and mocks and deadly pleas. Dimitri doesn’t even get to realize it is _a hallucination_. The Duscur boy gets anxious, and then worried, and then he can’t take it anymore.

“Your Majesty, are you, by any chance, talking to the goddess?”

“Oh yes,” Dimitri says, “and to be fair, her presence has made my new situation much easier.”

“You’re welcome,” the goddess says.

Dimitri finally realizes why Dedue has that current facial expression, “Dedue… please, my friend. You can’t be thinking I am hallucinating!”

“Hm,” Dedue only hums, saying nothing.

“Dedue! Do you not believe me?”

“I would trust you with my life, Your Majesty,” Dedue says. And Dimitri can trust his to Dedue, as they’ve proved to each other during the war. “However, I may have my own reservations when it comes to belief.”

“That is just… Dedue, stubborn as ever.” says Dimitri, frustrated. “Alright, I’ll prove to you now. Sothis, can we take Dedue back to the old timeline?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, princeling. You know that is out of my ability.”

“But you can take me back there.”

“And I don’t even know why. Most of the time you went back on your own volition!”

“Taking me back to… the old timeline?” Dedue says hesitantly while watching Dimitri talking to the invisible entity that he claims to be the goddess.

“Yes, and I can still see Alex and Sitri from time to time,” Dimitri says before talking to the goddess again. “Alright, then you know all of our secrets, right? Tell me something only Dedue knows.”

“Your Majesty, I doubt there is anything about me that you don’t know,” Dedue sighs.

Silence from the goddess. “Sothis… Don’t tell me you can’t do that, either.”

“Of course I can’t! I was stuck in Byleth’s head and all I could see was from his or her point of view! And those memories before I fully awakened were blur—hold on,” Sothis finally miraculously recalls one bit of her past, spending a moment to think, and then tells Dimitri.

Dimitri repeats to Dedue, “At one point of Byleth’s past life, you told her—she was a woman back then—you planted so many forget-me-nots because those are your sister Aria’s favorite flower. Your mother’s favorite is peonies, but they were hard to procure at the monastery.” Dimitri pauses for the goddess to tell him more. “And there’s a story in Duscur that a blond prince with a white horse would arrive and pick up the girl of his love—a commoner girl, and they will live happily ever after. Aria assumes I’m that prince.”

Dedue’s eyes widen, “How do you…?”

“Sothis,” Dimitri points at the goddess sitting next to him, though apparently Dedue can’t see her.

Dedue loses all words.

_Thank you, Sothis. You’re finally a bit useful._

“Rude!” Sothis rolls her eyes.

Dedue becomes eerily quiet that night even when the knights ask him about more Duscur legends. Though with his taciturn nature, the boy is usually happy to share stories of his culture. People think he’s just tired, but Dimitri knows why.

Later that night, Dimitri is still awake when everyone has fallen asleep. Rodrigue sets his cot closer to the four teenagers (well, three normal boy and a dragon-turned-teenager). Felix despises the idea, so he settles down next to Byleth, twelve feet away from his father.

Dimitri can’t help looking at Byleth, fast asleep. Dimitri stares as the green-haired teenager’s chest rises and falls, and that indication of life calms the Prince down. He can’t tear his eyes away from Byleth, as if the latter will disappear once he does so, their life once again torn apart by the hand of time.

_Does he remember?_ Dimitri wonders. If Dedue does, is there a possibility that he does, too?

Probably not. There are too many signs. First, this Byleth doesn’t emote much while Byleth Eisner-Blaiddyd had come to laugh more and even throw tantrums throughout their time together (just think about that cookie incident). Second, there is something in Byleth’s behavior that Dimitri know he’s keeping a distance—a normal anxiety when someone is thrown into a gang of strangers. Yes he is doing a lot for them, but that’s only because Byleth is a nice person. Dimitri knows too well how little Byleth understands about social norms.

Dimitri sighs. He hates this. He hates that he can’t help staring at Byleth all the time while he knows, in no time, everybody will notice. He hates how many emotions are going through his chest while the love of his life is right there, and yet Dimitri can’t say any of it. And Dimitri hates that as much as he wants to ask and confess his time-traveling to Byleth, he cannot, and he cannot just go to Byleth and ask if he was also from the future just like Dimitri and Dedue.

The Prince hears Dedue shifting next to him. He turns and see the Duscur teenager also awake.

“Can’t sleep?” Dimitri asks.

Dedue shakes his head, “Thinking about what you said today.” They keep their voices under their breaths.

Dimitri hums. He turns to look at the night sky, suddenly wondering if Alex and Sitri see the same moon and stars as he does every night.

“How are the children?” Dedue asks.

“They are still coping, but Felix and Sylvain have been trying hard,” Dimitri says.

_Dedue and Claude were the only two who knew the royal couple’s “contingency arrangements,” as they call it because they hate to use the word “wills.” Dimitri and Byleth first asked Dedue to be the guardian, but the Duscur man declines after thanking the couple._

_“I’m afraid I am not the best candidate for such an important role, Your Majesty, though we all hope that this contingency plan will never come to use,” says the loyal vassal._

_“Why not, Dedue?” Byleth tilts her head._

_“The guardian of the Crown Prince will inevitably become King Regent. I am not familiar with politics, and even if we have all the Lions coming to my aid on political matters, please think about the implications of a man of Duscur becoming Fódlan’s Regent.”_

_“Please, my friend, it doesn’t matter to me. I trust you with my life, and I can trust my children to you” Dimitri says. They’d even consider Claude if none of the Lions were able to take up the responsibilities._

_“I appreciate your consideration, Your Majesty, but the will is in place to avoid political turmoil. For the sake of the people of Fódlan and His Highness, please refrain from doing so.”_

_And ultimately, Dimitri and Byleth decided to make Felix the guardian. Dedue was the first to be informed._

“And… how is Ashe?” Dedue’s voice drives Dimitri back to the present.

Dimitri opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. How does he explain it to Dedue?

“He…” the Prince hesitates but decides to tell him, “I didn’t get to see him much, but according to Sylvain—Sylvain from that world, Ashe left the restaurant to his siblings. He cremated your body and took you back to Duscur after my funeral.” _My funeral_ , it sounds so bizarre. “And he wasn’t planning to come back to Fódlan.”

Dedue spends a moment silent. “He… spent time studying our funerary traditions.”

Even Dimitri didn’t get to know of the Duscur funerary traditions until he saw Ashe researching in the library, hours after the royal funeral. The Duscurians cremate the deceased so their spirits will return to the sky where the gods dwell. Their bodies turn into ashes and are contained in golden urns. Those who die traveling outside of Duscur should return to their homeland, buried with their families.

Dimitri nods. He puts a hand on Dedue’s shoulder, patting gently.

“Good night, Dimitri,” Dedue says, his voice trembling with rare vulnerabilities.

Dimitri smiles. He loves it when Dedue drops honorifics, “Good night my friend.”

\-------

“We’re going to Garreg Mach,” Dimitri announces in the morning.

The knights stop what they are doing, staring at the Prince with open mouths.

“Your Highness, the journey to the monastery takes four days from here if the weather allows. Six days if there is a rainstorm,” Rodrigue frowns.

“I am aware, but if we need someone with enough expertise in magic and weapons infused with magical power, we can either go to Cornelia or the Archbishop.” To be honest, Dimitri doesn’t want to see Rhea now. Not after witnessing how she tried separating Sitri from Alex and bringing her to the Church. Not after Garreg Mach did nothing to defend Glenn at Essex even they clearly knew he was wronged.

But he has no choice on this matter. “Also, didn’t Cassandra mention Glenn was taken to the monastery for treatment?”

Something flashes in Felix’s eyes. Rodrigue shakes his head, “We cannot take all of the Knights of Faerghus out of the capital. To think what Lord Rufus and Lady Cornelia will do…”

“I intend to send some of them back to the castle. I have summoned the rest of the knights from their missions, and they will join them in Fhirdiad to protect our people,” Dimitri says.

Without waiting for Rodrigue’s response, Felix turns to Dimitri, “We’ll go.”

“Felix, you cannot expect the crown prince to travel out of our territories without a full entourage of knights.”

“Are you for real, old man? Lady Cassandra and Lord Christophe have brought no less than 50 men and women.”

“Felix—”

“If you don’t want to go, fine. I’ll go with Dimitri. I’ll go see Glenn and let him know at least one of his families care about him.”

Dimitri never expects the conversation to turn into the father and son’s argument. The air has thickened up into heightened tension, leaving Dimitri no idea what to do.

And one person finally breaks the dangerous silence.

“Where is… the monastery?” Byleth asks.

The attention is now turned to Byleth. “Well nice joke, Mr. Eisner,” Rowan laughs, probably thankful that the younger man manages to divert the attention.

Dimitri and Dedue blink. Right, if Byleth doesn’t remember, he shouldn’t know anything about the Church or the monastery.

Byleth only tilts his head, with the iconic “confused Byleth” expression. Then Rowan starts to realize he wasn’t joking, “Wait, for real?”

“I’ve lived half my life as a dragon, Sir Rowan. I avoid meeting people in general just in case I transform in the middle of the day. Not everyone loves to see a dragon appearing out of nowhere like you all,” Byleth says, and when he sees Rowan clearly wants to say something else, he already knows what the knight is trying to say, “And yes, I do travel in my dragon form, but the routes have been planned to keep me away from people’s gaze.”

“What about your family, Byleth?” Dimitri asks.

“My father? He’s fine as long as I let him know where I’m going. I can use a messenger owl later today.”

Dimitri nods and turns back to Rodrigue, “We’re going.”

\-------

The frustrated Rodrigue ends up throwing all of the four teenagers into a wagon before setting off for the monastery, just to make sure they don’t run off for some shenanigans during the journey. For one moment, Dimitri wonders if Felix from the past world will be the same as his father in ten years’ time, dealing with two teenagers who try to run off all the time.

Clearly, the Duke didn’t expect Felix to learn brawling in the wagon.

“Felix, if you keep smashing the walls and making the noises, your father would send us back to the castle,” Dedue sighs when Felix charges with a new move he just learned from Byleth.

The 14-year-old Dedue is already wall, nearing six feet—even taller than the adult Felix—with the strength of grown man, and yet the 12-year-old Felix wants to spar with him.

It’s been two days since they left Fhirdiad. They only pause for meals and for the night. When there is little time to train in the evening because Byleth is usually too tired for more training sessions, Felix decides to train on the go. It usually ends up with Byleth falling asleep while the younger Fraldarius continues training, and Dimitri would stay by his side when he drifts off.

Just like right now, Byleth sleeps like a log right next to Dimitri, even when the ride is bumpy and noises from the brawling are loud enough to wake anyone up.

Also, Dimitri has noticed that Byleth has a significantly smaller appetite compared to his past life, while the Prince gets hungry all the time. He would finish Byleth’s leftover portions but that’s still not enough. Food is limited on the road, so Dimitri keeps this all to himself to avoid Rodrigue and Dedue worrying over him all the time. He still gets to see Alex and Sitri in his dreams, but those seem to be only his “dream” than the actual reality.

At the same time, Sothis has been quiet recently. She’s always asleep, and Dimitri is always tired.

Just seconds after Dimitri dozes off, the wagon stops. Dimitri cracks his eyes open, thinking they are under attack, and relaxes when he sees who it is.

Rodrigue opens the door only to find two teenagers practicing brawling and two asleep.

“What? We are training,” Felix huffs when facing Rodrigue’s questioning glare.

“The knights outside almost thought you were going to wreck the wagon, Felix,” Rodrigue says.

“Then we can get a sturdier wagon in the next town. The Prince can afford it.”

The tired Duke looks like he regrets taking four teenagers on a journey, mentally blaming his old self for such a decision. “Do you want to spend some time outside, Felix?”

The Prince, half-asleep and half-awake, sees the way Felix’s eyes bright up. “Of course,” he says before stepping out, “I’ll get a horse and ride on my own.” He adds just as Rodrigue wants to offer a ride together.

The older Fraldarius sighs, “What about you, Dedue?”

“I can use some fresh air, thank you.”

And when they leave and the door closes again, the Prince suddenly realizes Dedue is trying to give him space alone with Byleth. Dimitri finally jolts awake, staring into the empty space where it suddenly feels so tight around him.

How is he going to not embarrass himself in front of Byleth?

Dimitri swallows and prays to Sothis that the older teenager stays asleep just a bit longer, so he doesn’t get to see how awkward the Prince is going to make himself look. “Goddess, _what is wrong with me_ …” Dimitri groans, face in both hands.

He stays in that position, groaning things only he can understand, and he doesn’t know the other pair of eyes has been looking at him.

A small, cold hand makes contact to Dimitri’s head. The Prince raises his head to see Byleth, patting him in the way only Byleth knows how.

“Are you okay, Dimitri?”

“Yes—yes I’m fine. Thank you,” Dimitri stumbles. “How long… how long have you been awake?”

“A while,” Byleth runs his fingers through the blond locks. “Are you sure? You always seem so distressed.”

“May… maybe.” _And that’s because of you, Byleth_.

Byleth blinks, “Puppy love?”

Dimitri laughs. He remembers Byleth asking the same thing the night at the academy when Edelgard showed up with Manuela. “Prof… Byleth, it’s… yes, sort of. Puppy love.”

Byleth hums. They lie back down on the floor, sharing a moment of comfortable silence.

Dimitri thinks about the academy when he and Byleth would have a cup of chamomile together, and the momentary silence was always so calming especially when the voices were loud. Byleth always brought him gifts. Dimitri always thought chamomile was Byleth’s favorite but at some point, he realizes Byleth only has the student’s favorite tea during tea time.

_“I’d love to have your preferred tea with you, professor. You shouldn’t indulge me that much all the time,” Dimitri tells her. “What is the tea that you like?”_

_Byleth thinks, and then shakes her head, “I don’t really have a preference. Everything except the lavender blend works fine with me.”_

_“I see… The options at the Garreg Mach market are relatively limited. I shall consult with Ferdinand for some imported tea. You may want to try more tea from Almyra and from the East. People say they are quite good, too.”_

“Chamomile,” Byleth suddenly says, breaking Dimitri from his reverie, “Chamomile and… butterfly ranunculus. That’s what you smell like.”

Dimitri blinks. “I… I am not aware that butterfly ranunculus has a particular scent.”

“I’m a dragon, Dimitri. I smell better than regular humans do,” Byleth says. “My father said my mother loved flowers. Every time he went home with some flowers from different regions, my mother would give him the most beautiful smile. Sometimes he had to made dry flowers because of how long the journeys were, and butterfly ranunculus was something he would gift her. They are beautiful, but too fragile to care for.”

Dimitri hums. He wishes he knew Cecilia’s favorite flower, but Lambert never talked about her much. Maybe he should’ve learned Patricia’s preference.

“Is it your favorite flower, Dimitri?”

“No, it’s…” Dimitri pauses. _How do I say my daughter loves this?_ “Someone very important to me has a particular preference for butterfly ranunculus. She always gifted me those.”

Byleth stares at him for a moment, nodding as if learning something important. “I see. I wish I would meet her one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Duscur funerary traditions was brought from Homer. Part of it was borrowed from my culture.
> 
> School has been crazy lately so I’m not sure if I’ll update next week, but for the Thanksgiving break, I’ll try to post a longer one!  
> (Just in case you’re wondering, I’m from Asia but I study in North America. That’s why English isn’t my first language and yet I have the Thanksgiving break lol.)


	11. Imaginary Friend (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens to Byleth. Something happens to Felix, Sylvain, and the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! An early update for the holiday! Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all of the hits, kudos, and subscriptions. (Also shout out to the folks who subscribed to my page—I never expected this but thank you!!!)
> 
> Wow, one thing CF left a great impression on me was Field of Revenge. You know, the battle that you’ll have to kill Dima. (My heart broke when Dimitri and Dedue talk after you kill him.) The Faerghus soldiers are so… fearless, and they have so much faith. It should make a great movie.
> 
> I'm planning to paint "FOR FAERGHUS" on my t-shirt.
> 
> Have you ever thought about how cruel canon is to the characters’ mothers? Like… I can’t think of anyone’s mother having a good life (that said if they’re still fortunately alive) besides Claude’s… but even Claude’s mother, an outsider, is facing the racial tension in Almyra, right?
> 
> The game never mentioned Felix and Sylvain’s mothers, so I just assume they’re all dead for this fic. RIP my ladies.
> 
> Why am I talking about their mothers? I’m not gonna throw spoilers here. Not for this chapter, but for the future ones.
> 
> Trigger warning: This chapter deals with an escalation of Dimitri’s mental health conditions. It involves aggressive behavior and hallucinations. Also, one part mentions attempted child abuse and violence. Please read with care.

“My younger brother wanted to come with me so bad,” at some point during the journey, Christophe mentions Ashe for the first time. Dedue’s attention takes a sharp turn away from his current conversation with Dimitri and Felix, totally forgetting the other two teenagers.

“Brother? I thought you were Lord Lonato’s only boy?” Rowan’s loud voice shoots from a corner of the entourage. He senses juicy content from that sentence alone, winking at the Gaspard heir. “Good for him!”

“Adoptive brother, Rowan. Chris’s dad adopted three kids three years ago. You’ve got that big nose for gossips and you never heard about that?”

Christophe frowns, “Why do I think you sound really weird?”

“Oh, I thought your father was courting another woman since we never heard of him getting remarried.”

Christophe chokes, nearly falling off his horse, “Oh my goddess, Rowan! He would never—Sothis almighty, now you totally tainted my memories.” He shudders at the image of his father bedding a woman, feeling nauseous.

“There is nothing scandalous about that. Your father is a virile man with healthy needs—”

“Rowan, my oldest younger brother is already thirteen this year—”

“And he definitely needs healthy sex li—”

Rodrigue coughs loudly, “Rowan, please refrain from this type of talking.”

“Your Grace, the Knights talk about handsome men and women all the time! You were never bothered before!”

The very tired Duke eyes the four teenagers in the group, then sending Rowan a warning glance.

The Knight finally recalls there are kids around. “Oh. Oh! Apologies, Your Grace. My bad, Your Highness. You didn’t hear anything.”

“What is healthy sex?” Felix asks.

Dimitri doesn’t realize his face has already flushed up after hearing the exchange. He isn’t unfamiliar with the Knights’ preferred topics after fighting alongside in his past life, but hearing Rowan mention Rodrigue, of all people, is very used to the Knights talking about sex sends Dimitri’s brain into a spiral. Does he participate in the discussion? Talking about beautiful men and women he is potentially going to develop a relationship with and finally giving Glenn and Felix a stepmother? Does he talk about… sex with all the other Knights?

And when Lambert was working with the Knights of Faerghus, did he do the same? Did he ever—

_Goodness_. Dimitri groans silently. Thinking about Lambert and Patricia’s sex life traumatizes him.

And now it traumatizes him even more when he recalls how Alex and Sitri walk in on him making love to Byleth, thinking about how the view is probably going to traumatize the twins in the future if they still remember.

“They were probably too young to remember. Don’t worry,” the goddess speaks, lazily.

_But Alex talked about seeing me being naked the other day._

The goddess’ next words die when Rodrigue diverts his inquiring gaze at Dimitri, who finally realizes he’s appeared too fluttered at the mention of sex. The 13-year-old Dimitri should still be pure at heart. He shouldn’t understand what sex means.

So the Prince feigns an innocent, curious look, tilting his head just so slightly as if asking the same question in silence.

Some Knights struggle to muffle their laughs. Some look amused. Christophe has his mouth covered by both hands, holding back a chortle, while Cassandra laughs out loud. Dimitri knows what Rodrigue feels right now since he’s been through the same scenario—the Duke wants to die.

“When you’re older, Felix.”

Luckily, the younger Fraldarius let the topic slide and asks no further questions.

Dedue doesn’t seem to be listening. Dimitri knows he’s thinking about Ashe and how they might potentially meet again one day.

And they will save Christophe from his tragedy.

Byleth stirs awake in front of Dimitri, waking to the end of this awkward exchange. He looks confused. The older teen has been riding with Dimitri as of late after feeling too constrained inside the wagon.

“Byleth, how are you feeling?” Dimitri slightly adjusts his position, trying to make Byleth more comfortable.

Byleth is still too tired to respond. He hums and drifts back to sleep again, unaware of how worried his conditions make the Prince. Dedue notices, frowning his concerns.

_Sothis, do you know what’s going on?_

It takes the goddess a while to answer, “Give me some time, Dimitri. I’ll need to observe him more.”

And with how much time Sothis also spends sleeping, Dimitri sighs, wondering if he will ever get an explanation.

\-------

Dimitri can see the spires of Garreg Mach shining with gold from a distance. As if fate is playing with the Prince once again, the group has taken the exact same route Alois and the three house leaders took in his last life, bringing the professor-to-be to the monastery for the first time.

Right now, at Remire Village, the Knights are restocking supplies since the Garreg Mach market is always more expensive. The four teens sit outside of a small restaurant, Dimitri coaxing Byleth to take one more bite of his fish sandwich.

“We might miss dinner at the monastery. There is still quite some road to ride, so it may be a better idea to eat a bit more.”

Byleth hums again, tired to talk. He takes another bite, chewing slowly.

Fortunately, the boy with green hair isn’t hard to budge on this matter, miraculously finishes half of his food in the end. Dimitri wraps the leftover up to save it for the road, just in case Byleth needs it.

_“Dimitri, if you’re ever hungry, just open that sack of yours. I’ve packed enough food for you.”_

The Prince freezes, suddenly recalling what Byleth used to do during the war, and yet he was a total jerk, barking insults at the love of his life for months. It was a miracle that Byleth still loved him. Now with the role reversed, fate must be punishing him by giving him the same burden Byleth took on years into the future.

But Dimitri thinks his mission has been too easy to be an actual _punishment_. Byleth doesn’t bite or barks. He only sleeps.

“I’m sorry that I keep troubling you,” Byleth mutters.

“No, please, don’t apologize. I love doing this for you—” he suddenly realizes how weird he must have sounded since Felix turns with a weird look on his face. “No, I mean… Ugh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey kid,” a coarse voice silences the Prince..

Fate seems to be repeating itself yet again, bringing Dimitri another familiar face.

Jeralt and two mercenaries stand in front of the group of four, looking a bit ragged from the road.

“Cap—” he shouldn’t be aware of his identity yet. Dimitri almost bites his tongue when he quickly corrects his mistake, gaining a weird look from everyone. “Good afternoon, sir. May I help you with anything?”

“Ah cut that shit, Prince. I’m here for my son before you all take him to that monastery.”

“Your son?!” Felix is in the middle of chewing a strip of beef jerky, turning his eyes to Byleth, shocked.

Byleth, on the verge of nodding off, blinks several times to keep himself awake, “I thought you read my letter.”

“I’ve got it seared into my guts. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Now, let’s go.”

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t let me go to the monastery?”

“I thought I’d made it really clear before. I don’t care if you fly off to Almyra or Dagda or somewhere that isn’t even on the map, but never central Fódlan. And don’t ask me questions.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Byleth says, visibly exhausted. “Those people wielded strange weapons and tried to kill me. I need to figure out who they are and what they want at least.” He has to take a deep breath in the end, as if breathing itself has given him trouble.

“Are you alright, son?” Jeralt frowns.

Byleth only hums. His father knows the boy wouldn’t say anything even if something _is_ wrong, and instinct tells him to check his temperature.

Jeralt’s hand freezes on the teen’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Father.”

“No, you’re freezing.”

Dimitri feels insulted, immediately putting a hand on Byleth’s forehead. He has been staying with Byleth all the time, and he has made sure to bundle him up with extra layers of cloaks, and now Jeralt is telling Dimitri that he has neglected Byleth’s needs? “His temperature seems to be normal, sir.”

Jeralt rolls his eyes, “You’ve seen him as a dragon. His body temperature should be significantly higher than any human.”

“Oh,” Dimitri nods but then, when realizing what that means, raises his voice, “ **Byleth, why didn’t you tell me anything**?” And he finds his hand still in contact with Byleth’s skin. The Prince flushes from head to toe, withdrawing as if he has been burnt. “I’m… my apologies. I shouldn’t…”

And yet Byleth doesn’t respond. He has drifted off to sleep, head leaning on the Prince’s shoulder.

“Alright kids, I’ll take over from here,” Jeralt picks Byleth up. “I don’t remember if I’ve said this… probably not, but thank you for saving him. Anyway, why do I bother? He saved you all, too.”

“Where—where are you taking him?” Dimitri panics. He finally sees Byleth again. He can’t just let Jeralt take him away.

Jeralt quirks a brow at the overeager Prince.

Oh. He shouldn’t worry so much about a person who he just met a few days ago, and he can’t possibly tell Jeralt that Byleth was his wife and his love of life. “My apologies. It shouldn’t be my place to inquire but…” but Dimitri doesn’t get to finish the sentence. His mind stops, heart drops, drops, and drops into the chasm Byleth fell into. He sees blood dripping from Byleth’s clothes, tainting the ground crimson. Dedue and Felix notice, too, eyes widening, any sound of fear silenced down in their throat.

“What is it?” Jeralt frowns, placing Byleth on his horse. Then he sees it. The former Captain finds both of his hands covered in blood. His gaze snaps to the unconscious boy—the fabrics where Jeralt held on to have blood seeping through.

\-------

“What in the world is this ruckus—goodness gracious what happened to the poor boy?” when the crowd burst into the infirmary at around four in the afternoon, Manuela has already poured herself some wine, ready to drink the night away, and yet the sudden appearance of a frantic prince and a worried duke and a very pale father, along with two other teens still in shock and a bunch of confused knights, really ruins her plan. Dimitri doesn’t have the energy or mind to wonder if another man has just rejected her once again.

Upon seeing Byleth, the former songstress immediately puts everything away, rushing to settle him in a bed.

Dimitri’s fists clench. How could he never notice a thing? Was Byleth in pain all the time? Why did he say nothing?

The Prince tries to get an answer from Sothis, but the goddess is sleeping on her throne again.

“My son was attacked by a—a bunch of weird assholes wielding weird weapons. At first, his new friends didn’t notice anything but just now after lunch, we thought he fell asleep and then… we found him bleeding everywhere,” Jeralt explains, his voice near inaudible in the end, trembling. “Please… save him.”

Dimitri has never seen the Captain so helpless before.

_It is all my fault. I should have noticed. It’s all **my** fault. **My fault and Byleth will die in front of me once again and I can’t save him** —_

“And does nobody else have the same symptoms? Bleeding?” Manuela starts channeling white magic into his body, hoping to stop the rapid blood loss. The crowd collectively shakes their heads.

“I only found his body temperature lower than usual,” says Jeralt, on the verge of choking.

Manuela frowns. She pauses the magic flow for a second, checking his temperature, “His body temperature is normal.”

The former Captain has made it clear to everyone in the group—Byleth as a dragon must remain a secret. “No, you don’t understand…” frustrated, Jeralt turns to Dimitri and Rodrigue.

Dimitri blurts out at once, “He was always sleeping, easily tired. When we just met him, he was healing fine, and he even managed to put down many of our attackers with ease. At that time, he had about fourteen hours of sleep every day, including the naps in the afternoon, but recently he rarely stays awake. His appetite has been worse. At first, he could finish half of his portion for two meals a day. Now he barely eats anything. And—”

He notices everyone in the room is looking at him, and Dimitri suddenly realizes how ridiculously elaborate his account is— _almost like a worried husband_. Yet he can’t quite register the look on Jeralt’s face.

“Thank you, Prince Dimitri. This is indeed very strange…” Manuela doesn’t seem to pick up the strange atmosphere in the room. “Now, can someone be a dear and grab Lady Rhea for me, please? She should be in the audience hall right now, by the staircase in case you don’t know.”

“ _No_ ,” Jeralt suddenly raises his voice, “Not her.”

Rodrigue looks shocked, “Jeralt, this is…” Dimitri blinks. _Does Rodrigue know who Jeralt is?_ But then he recalls Jeralt was already the Captain of the Knights of Seiros years ago when the Duke and the late King were studying at the Officers Academy.

Manuela cuts off the Duke to address the former captain, exasperated, “Well, excuse me sir, you want me to save your son, and here I’m bringing in another expert—”

“You don’t understand—”

“He’s dying! What do I not understand?”

The door opens. Rhea and Seteth enter the infirmary, and their sudden appearance silences everyone. Jeralt freezes at the sight of the archbishop, and then he turns his face away.

“Good afternoon, my guests from Faerghus,” Dimitri cringes at her iconic, decorous smile. After what happened at his funeral, the Prince can’t look at the archbishop with the same reverence he held before anymore. Then she turns to Jeralt, “And Captain Jeralt, it’s been years since you left the Knights of Seiros.”

Felix and the Knights gape at the two, but no one questions a thing when the archbishop is still speaking.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been years, Rhea.”

Seteth clears his throat, “ _Lady_ Rhea.”

Jeralt sighs but relents, “Please, Lady Rhea, take a look at my son.”

\-------

The things that happen next are blurry for Dimitri. Lady Rhea has been somewhat confused after checking Byleth’s conditions as if she has been expecting something different, something _more_. It only alarms the Prince, and the thought of Rhea might do something to Byleth haunts him since she finished the exam.

He can’t leave Byleth. Not after they finally met again, not after he _so pathetically_ failed to notice something went amiss, and definitely not when Byleth’s life is still in danger.

“It seems his—energy, has been greatly interrupted by a strange force. He has a very peculiar power that will heal himself automatically, and so it did, but the new force eventually breaks the newly healed tissues, and so his wounds return,” Rhea says, and then her voice has something strange in it, “How was he injured, may I ask?”

“Like I said, it was the _bandits_ who wielded strange weapons,” Jeralt speaks, stressing the words.

“And his general health?”

“He hasn’t been very healthy, but some children are just like so, aren’t they?” Jeralt says. The question alarms him.

The archbishop hums, thinking, and after a moment, “What was he like, when he was injured?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Rhea,” Jeralt narrows his eyes.

From the corner of his eyes, a bloody Glenn stands, grinning just so widely at the unconscious boy. His cruel murmurs echo in the room. “Glenn—” Dimitri mutters quietly. He was taken into the monastery after the attack, right? And this Glenn is still bleeding, half of his body burnt with his bones exposed and…

When a hand touches Dimitri’s shoulder, his survival reflex brings him to pin that person to the wall. He hears a yelp, “Di—Dima!”

Dimitri’s vision clears, the fog of voices fades, and under his hand, he could’ve snapped Felix’s sternum if not Dedue held him back.

He loosens his grip immediately, hands sweaty, eyes full of terror, staggering back away from the younger boy. Felix slumps to the floor, coughing.

“Felix, I—” Dimitri stutters, unable to even mutter a coherent sentence, “I’m so… it’s all my… so sorry.”

Dedue pats the younger boy’s back, and Felix finally breathes normally. Everyone else in the room hears the commotion, which brings Rodrigue to them.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

Dimitri snaps, “You should check your son, not me.”

“But—”

“ **I nearly killed him, Rodrigue!** ”

The room falls into silence. Manuela nearly drops a jar, shooting Dimitri a glare, and even Rhea pauses and turns her gaze to the Prince. There is something in Rhea’s eyes that Dimitri can’t register as if he is an object, a thing she has been searching for, but he doesn’t have the energy to think about it.

_It happened again. I lost control even in the new world_. Dimitri tries to turn the time back as Sothis did, and yet the flow of time continues. The goddess is still asleep, unaware of anything that just happened.

“Dimitri—” Rodrigue is in utter shock.

“I’ll… get some fresh air,” Dimitri mumbles before reaching for the door. Dedue tries to follow. “No, Dedue. Stay here, _please_.” _Stay here for Byleth, for me_.

Dimitri rushes out of the building. He can’t even pull himself together when he needs to stay with Byleth. He has hurt Felix, and Felix will hate him like in the last world, and he will hurt people again and…

“Dimitri,” a familiar voice calms back to him, a voice belongs to someone who occupies his life, body, and soul. The Prince turns around to find Byleth, the female mercenary turned professor, looking at him with mint eyes, voice gentle. “Dimitri, breathe with me. Focus on your breaths.”

He blinks, and Byleth disappears.

Right, breathing. Dimitri takes a long breath, in and out. He remembers Byleth told him to guide his thoughts back to the breathing and nothing else. _Don’t panic when your mind drifts again. Just bring it back to yourself and try again._

Dimitri doesn’t know how long he has stood in the courtyard, but at some point, long after sunset, he blinks and sees Alex and Sitri sitting at the dining table in Fhirdiad.

\-------

Dimitri the ghost realizes it is only hours after he departed from this world. Sylvain just returned that morning. He finds himself in the dining room, and lunch is on the table.

Flayn and the King Regent’s new family of four (Dimitri has a sour taste in his mouth) are right there, sitting on the opposite sides of the table—Flayn and Felix sitting next to Sitri, and Sylvain next to Alex. He is a bit confused by the sitting order because as the Regent, Felix should be sitting…

Dimitri finds the head of the table empty, with a single white rose sitting in front of his usual seat. The same arrangement is made for Byleth’s usual spot.

The atmosphere is weird. Something must have happened before he comes back. Felix treats Sitri’s fish fillet with great hatred, cutting through the soft meat as if chopping off an enemy’s head. (The last time Dimitri sees that expression from the raven-haired was five and half years ago in Enbarr.) Sylvain silently cuts Alex’s food with a steak knife, not even throwing a single joke at the table and simply putting sliced meat into the toddler’s plates.

Flayn, already sensing the tension in the air, still tries to be cheerful around the children, but Alex and Sitri are quiet, too quiet for Dimitri. He remembers how he and Byleth had to spend half an hour putting the twins into their high chairs, and usually, that process ended up with either twin (or both, when life hated him) breaking down into dreadful tears ( _“I want to plaaaaay!!! I don’t want fooood!!!”_ ). For a second Dimitri thinks maybe they’ve grown up, grown out of the phase of dining table tantrums, but then he sees how disturbed, how _scared_ the two children look.

“Felix! Sylvain!” Dimitri drifts to the two adults in the room, voice dark. “Did you terrorize my children?!”

For the living humans, of course, the late King is inaudible, invisible. And yet suddenly Alex shoots his head up.

“What the f—what did your father mean, Sylvain?” Felix spits the word out, almost blurting out the curse word in front of the children. “Why did he say he wanted to meet us all and then he’s late?”

Alex keeps looking at Dimitri, which comes to everyone’s attention. “Daddy,” he points at Dimitri. The ghost freezes on his spot.

Felix turns around to see where Alex is pointing at, and he simply frowns when seeing nothing.

“What’s wrong, Alex?” Sylvain pulls a very tired smile, trying to look happy around the children.

“Daddy, right there.”

Sylvain looks up then back at Alex, “Is he? Huh, how nice.” Obviously, he sees nothing.

Felix is rather tired, “Alex, eat your food.”

“Felix, that’s not nice—” Flayn protests.

“I really see him! He’s here!”

“Probably just his imaginary friend,” Felix sighs.

“Maybe it’s the goddess’ power!” Flayn says excitedly. “I’ve heard such a miracle.”

Felix resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Yeah? Making a child’s imaginary friend his dead parent? Pathetic.”

“ **No! I can see him! I can see Daddy right there!** ”

Felix drop the utensils on the plate. The “clack” sound throws Sitri out of her own thoughts. The girl has been looking longingly at the spot where Alex has been pointing at. Dimitri wonders if she can see him, too. _They are twins after all_...

“Alex, please... stop this,” Felix sounds so weak.

The boy looks deflated, dropping his head to the chest, but says nothing more.

“I heard some commotion in here just now, so I hope everything is alright” another man enters, the person who no one wants to see right now. “Or, Your Grace, you failed to provide suitable company for my son again?”

The former Margrave Gautier steps into the dining room, in his finest clothes—too grand for a guest.

“ _FATHER_ ,” Sylvain’s voice tightens, rage simmering.

“Did I? I find another person here rather unsuitable. His tardiness and intrusion have made him a rather terrible guest,” Felix says, voice strained.

“That depends on how you define the word, ‘guest.’ Some people regard themselves as the host, but they’re never aware that their presence is only _temporary_ , and their arrogance will cost them _a great price_ in the end.”

“ _Is that a threat_?” Sylvain stands up, palms slamming on the table. Sitri gets startled, nearly jumping out of her seat.

Dimitri rushes to his daughter immediately. _Don’t worry, Sitri. It’s only the grown-ups fighting. They really are annoying, are they not?_

But he’s not sure if Sitri can hear him. She’s rather quiet today. The ghost glares knives at Aldric Gautier for scaring his daughter. They should have had this fight elsewhere when the children aren’t around.

“I see that you are back from Gautier,” Aldric says, voice calm. “The travel shouldn’t have been even necessary in the first place if you’d found yourself an obedient, _suitable_ woman as wife.”

Felix has to cut in when Sylvain is clearly going to punch the man, “Sylvain, sit down. Eat your lunch.”

Sylvain’s face clenches, but he relents, sitting down silently. Dimitri wonders if anger has granted Sylvain the Crest of Blaiddyd, since the younger Gautier nearly breaks his fork in half when he returns to his meal, his steak knife screeching against the plate.

Sylvain doesn’t have the appetite anymore—probably never in the first place, because the couple was aware Aldric was right here in the castle, planning something they’d never want to know.

The servants in the dining room steal a peek or two at the lords in the room. Anyone can tell the tension between these family members. Felix wants to kick them all out, but they will serve as witnesses if anything goes wrong. He doesn’t want Aldric to leave the castle and start telling everyone that they beat him up or something.

“Ah, Lady Flayn,” Aldric tilts his head when greeting the priestess, pretending he hasn’t been aware of her presence, “Please forgive me for not paying you a visit earlier.”

“Why are you here?” Sylvain bites every word before Flayn can say anything.

“Then, let’s talk about business,” Aldric settles down on Dimitri’s seat at the head of the table. He looks far too comfortable to be a guest as if this is his castle.

Sitri jumps out of her seat before anyone can say anything, nearly falling from the high chair. Dimitri hurries to pick her up but his hands grip in the air. “That is Father’s seat!” Sitri isn’t crying, isn’t angry, either; she is firm, never so determined. For a second Dimitri sees Byleth in her, standing in the middle of the battlefield, shouting orders to the Lions, generals, and soldiers.

Aldric pauses for a moment, a hint of _shock_ shines in the deep of his eyes. Then he regains composure and smirks— _this dastard smirks at my daughter_. He turns to Felix, “Any _suitable_ guardian should properly discipline their children, especially telling the girls when to talk and when to shut up.”

“In case you forgot, Lord Gautier, before Prince Alexandre takes the throne, this castle belongs to both the crown prince _and_ the princess. You should probably respect the hosts’ rules,” Felix retorts. “If the Princess wants to mourn her parents in her own way, then she has the right.”

“Let’s talk about inheritance since we’ve mentioned it. Sylvain, are you going to sire an heir?”

Flayn grows uncomfortable, “Please allow me to remind you, Lord Gautier. Sylvain and Felix’s wedding was witnessed in front of the goddess. What you suggested is utterly...”

“I will _not_ betray Felix.” Sylvain snaps. He really is in a mood of cutting people off today. “King Dimitri’s children are under our care now, and when Sitri comes of age, we will officially name her the heir to both Fraldarius and Gautier—of course, if she wants to.”

“A crestless—girl,” the former Margrave hums.

“Mind your next words if you’re going to shit about Crest and inheritance and all the _bullshit_.”

“I have expected this outcome, Sylvain, and I have no objection to this arrangement,” Aldric’s next words surprise the couple.

“But?” Felix huffs.

“But on one condition,” Aldric says, taking a vial of strange liquid out of his inner pocket. “I procured this concoction from a sage, who has the skill to ensure crestless children a promising future. The girl will start medical treatment today. The sage will continue providing the potion until she is deemed— _complete_.”

Even Felix snaps, “Why does inheritance have anything to do with medical treatment and potions?”

“Please rest assured, I hold my utmost respect and loyalty to the late King and, therefore, to His Highness. I will not do anything inappropriate to the girl.”

“The girl has a name,” Felix slams his glass to the table. A few servants shiver in the corner.

Aldric completely ignores him, “Someone will have to wield the Lance of Ruin one day. Someone will have to protect the border between the Kingdom and the barbarians from Sreng. I’ve heard about more drastic approaches from the sage to solve the problem, and yet I refrained from them, though tempting, and resorted to the second. Slower, but with lower risks, since the girl is the late King’s daughter after all. Therefore, it is the most significant for the girl to bear children as soon as possible—children with Crest. With this potion, she will bleed in five years, and by then, I would recommend you to take care of the matter to ensure her children bear the Crest of Gautier,”—even the sweet, kind priestess’ face is painted with utter disgust and disbelief—“but if you have concerns bedding the girl, I will personally handle such a matter...”

Felix, on the other side of the table, can’t stop Sylvain from lunging at his father. “Sylvain!”

“ ** _You fucking monster!_** ” Sylvain punches Aldric in the face, and Felix hears something crack. “ ** _She is only a CHILD!_** ”

When the Regent rushes to father and son, yanking back Aldric’s collar to separate the two, he sees blood—too much blood for a broken nose or tooth. Sylvain’s face and upper chest is all red. Felix almost thinks Sylvain is hurt, but then Felix sees both of his own hands are soaked in blood, and crimson is oozing through Aldric’s chest.

A steak knife sits in Aldric’s chest, halfway through his sternum.

The older man struggles to mutter a few words, but none is audible, muffled by the blood he wheezes. He tries to grab the knife, tries to tighten his grip on Sylvain’s throat, tries to throw more insults at his son, and yet all ends with futile. His hands go limp, his head slumping to the floor, and he is still.

Servants scream. Alex faints. Sitri falls into complete silence, watching the horror with widened eyes. Sylvain finally comes to his sense, realizing what he has done. He takes a few steps back until he sinks to the floor, face absent of all trace of blood.

Flayn rushes to their side, trembling to channel faith magic into Aldric’s motionless body. Felix takes a deep breath, snapping at the servants, “What are you gawking at? Summon the healers! Take the Prince and Princess back to the nursery!”

The healers arrive, trying their best to save the former Margrave. Twenty minutes later, Flayn turns to Felix, quietly shaking her head.

“Fuck,” Sylvain chokes, his eyes red.

Felix drags him to the empty hallway where no one will overhear them.

Sylvain can’t help shaking. “I… fuck, what did I do? It’s… it’s all my fault…”

“Sylvain, hey, look at me,” Felix has a hand on his husband’s cheek, wet with tears. He forces those amber eyes to meet his gaze. “This is not your fault.”

“Not my fault? I wasn’t assaulted. He didn’t threaten our life. There is no way for me to get out of this,” his face is sweaty, his voice trembling. “I should’ve expected this… The nobles have been trying to find any excuse to prove we are incapable and unsuitable as the twins’ guardians. And now I... did this. They just got all they wanted, Felix. What do you think will happen to Alex and Sitri? I can’t… Sothis. We can’t fail Dimitri and the professor—"

“This is _not_ your fault,” Felix repeats. “Any parents would kill anyone who tries to abuse their children. I won’t let them take you to Essex. We will fight this together.”

“How? Felix, _how_?”

“We will take them to Almyra. I will talk to Claude. He will take us in—”

“Then who will handle Fódlan? We fought the war and Dimitri worked so hard to try to bring the continent together. We can’t just abandon everything he cherished. And by sheltering us, Claude is risking a war between Fódlan and Almyra—"

“I don’t fucking care about what the dead boar thinks. I don’t give a damn if I have to wage a fucking war to protect the kids, but I will not let the assholes take you away, and they will not take the little boars. Never.”

“IYou think they’ll let us simply flee? We’ll have to cross the entire Alliance territory or Ailell. We’ll need to get past Fódlan’s Throat, where we have the highest level of security. How are we even going to run?” Sylvain’s voice peters out. “You… you didn’t do anything. You have nothing to do with this—”

“Sylvain, don’t—”

“I’ll turn myself in. Then you are still the King Regent. You are still their guardian.”

“No, please _Sylvain_. _Please_ don’t do this to me—” Dimitri has never seen Felix so helpless, so desperate before. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone. You can’t… You can’t…”

_No, no. Sylvain can’t go to Essex._

“Your Highness—"

_They will rip him apart. They’ve been waiting for this,_

“Your Highness.”

_He did this for Sitri… He…_

“Prince Dimitri.”

Dimitri gasps for air. When he turns his head back, the Prince is back at the monastery. Rhea stands right there, smiling as usual. “Are you unwell?”

“No, I…” Dimitri pants then shakes his head, hard. “How is he? Is he…”

“Yes, your friend is well,” the archbishop says, voice gentle.

“I’ll… I’ll go to the infirmary now.”

“Dimitri, for now, I don’t want anyone to disrupt his sleep. Professor Manuela and Captain Jeralt will take good care of him.”

“I…” Dimitri wants to argue, but he recalls how violent he was towards Felix. He himself is unwell now. He doesn’t want to hurt Byleth by accident, either. “Very well. Where is Sir Glenn resting? I shall visit him.”

“Oh, Sir Glenn left the monastery just yesterday, after his conditions stabilized. He asked me to send a letter to Faerghus. I shall have it delivered to your room later.”

_Right. No Glenn, either._ Dimitri nods.

Rhea speaks again. “Did you know Captain Jeralt before this incident? You didn’t seem to be shocked.”

“No. We only first met in Remire,” something in that voice alarms the Prince. “Stranger things have happened recently, have they not? I don’t think Captain Jeralt’s identity should have surprised me that much after I witnessed his son’s incredible skills.”

Rhea nods and pauses for a second, “If that’s the case, I’m wondering if you’d like to join me for tea. Would you do me the honor, Prince Dimitri?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun dun dun.
> 
> Every father in the story is so tired. Every mother is dead.
> 
> Sylvain’s dad excluded. He’s not a father. He’s a monster.
> 
> I didn’t plan to kill Aldric at first but we love drama, right? And now I have to figure out how this will go, because this didn’t happen in my original story plan…
> 
> Last chapter was a bit lame, I have to admit, but considering how stressed I was I’d let myself slide :D However, I wish this chapter has made up for that.
> 
> Sothis, I love domestic drama. The violent ones.
> 
> Btw, I somehow listened to Stevie Nicks to finish this chapter. I mean… though she’s my fav, the vibe of this chapter and Edge of Seventeen don’t go together, right?


	12. Divine Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea attempts to get something from Dimitri. Sylvain faces consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. It’s already December! Have you been thinking about your New Year's resolutions yet?
> 
> I didn’t plan to make this story so whumpy… so very sorry if the last chapter disturbed you. I’m planning a Stardew Valley + Fe3h inspired story right now for the next year. My initial thought was to make it happy dandy and yet just now, I realized how whumpy I made it again…
> 
> But I promise—nothing bad will happen. I won’t let more bad things to befall poor Dimileth and Sylvix.
> 
> Edit: Changed a sentence that would otherwise be really confusing and alarming. Clarified some language in the last part to avoid confusion.  
> Also, damnnnnn Quags new update today is so brutal.

Rhea never had much interaction with Dimitri in their past life outside of their professional relationship as King and former Archbishop. Even at the academy, Dimitri rarely spoke to her in private; most of the time, when he was in her presence, Dimitri was accompanying Byleth to discuss whatever villains they were tasked to eliminate.

Maybe if he’d spent time confessing, he’d had a chance to really talked to the Archbishop, the woman who gives Dimitri a hard time to understand and who has troubled the Prince ever since his own funeral. Felix never prayed and only went to church when it was politically required of Duke Fraldarius. Sylvain said he enjoyed the church because of the Archbishop’s beauty and professed how enthralled he was by the holiest woman of all Fódlan (he then earned a jab from Ingrid), but his visits to the church stopped when Rhea tasked them with Miklan—though the young Gautier lord flashed a smile at everybody, saying he really didn’t care about the mission. He would go silent for a second whenever Rhea was around and resumed his cheeky behaviors that only got worse.

And when now the Prince has the chance to have a conversation with the Archbishop, his mind is only on the other world he just witnessed, so desperate to leave and get back to being a ghost. There is a pot of chamomile Rhea blended herself, a plate of cookies and egg tarts, and the Archbishop herself sitting across the small table, smiling down on him—an expression so ethereal, so iconically Rhea, but it makes Dimitri wonder what she is truly thinking. Motherly when around a 13-year-old? A benevolent Archbishop meeting another child of the goddess?

Or a predator in front of a prey?

The Archbishop’s quarters are simple for a noble, not to mention the Archbishop of Fódlan, but incredibly luxurious compared to the bare student dorms. Dimitri’s eyes wander to the windows. The weather looks terrible. A storm is coming.

“What are you doing here, princeling?” the goddess finally wakes up with a yawn, frowning when seeing Rhea. “What are you doing with this woman?! Dimitri?!”

_You sound so oddly scandalous, Sothis. I was dragged here._ Dimitri resists the urge to groan. _Can you check the past world for me, please?_

“Why?”

Dimitri doesn’t even know what to respond to.

“Did something happen?” Sothis immediately flips through the Prince’s memories, scanning the pages of the past, and she freezes.

“What the fuck,” the goddess slams Dimitri’s mind shut. The teen feels an abrupt swirl of dizziness—even worse than his current state—as if the goddess has really hit his head.

_Just go back and check on them._

“I can only do that through you, and if I do so, you’ll collapse right in front of Rhea.”

“Dimitri, you seem troubled. May I ask what it is?” Rhea pours into Dimitri’s cup, voice gentle.

The Prince realizes he’s been quiet for too long, “Thank you for asking, but I am… only a bit nervous around you.”

Rhea’s smile deepens, “Is that so? I still remember the day I announced your birth to people of all Fódlan. It was a day full of merriment indeed.”

_If you knew how many I was going to kill_. Dimitri knows better than to say it out loud. His head hurts. His world still spins from the earlier time travel. Dimitri thinks he may throw up at any moment, but so far, he is impressed by how calm he is in front of the Archbishop even when the memory of Rhea trying to take Sitri away haunts him like a ghost.

“I didn’t know you were there when I was born.”

“It used to be a Fódlan custom for the Archbishop to be present when a new crown prince or princess is born. Your mother, the late Queen Cecilia, was a devout woman. I was quite fond of her when she was a student at the Officers Academy, the year she met your father.”

“What… What was she like?” Dimitri knows Rhea is using his birth mother to drop his guard, a tactic he knows she loves using all the time, and yet he can’t resist the topic. Nobody ever told him anything about his mother, especially Lambert, who was still tormented by grief and repentance.

“She was the most friendly and soft lady, if not a little too quiet, and yet her professor at the time discovered her great potentials. She later extended her concentration on healing magic to both defensive and offensive holy magic, almost as if the goddess has unlocked her great potentials. She became quite a warrior that your father lost to her during a tournament.”

“My father… used magic?”

“Oh no. That year’s tournament was specially arranged by their professor. Students of all concentrations fought in the same ring.”

_A bishop who could win one-on-one close combat against a lancer_? Dimitri’s eyes widen.

“And that was how they fell in love, my dear prince. You should probably pay a visit to their professor later and thank them,” Rhea says and then takes a sip of her tea, steam infused with chamomile and lemon from the teapot gently filling the room. Dimitri isn’t fond of lemon in chamomile in terms of smell, but he doesn’t hate it. It just feels odd.

“Oh? Is he still teaching at the academy? Who is he?”

Rhea’s voice is almost warm, “It’s Captain Jeralt, Dimitri.”

_What._

Jeralt was the Blue Lions’ professor, leading Lambert’s class?

Before he can properly digest the sudden information, Rhea sets down the cup in her saucer trimmed gold and floral patterns. Dimitri sees a glint of _something_ in her eyes. He knows the challenge is coming.

“So tell me, Dimitri. Have you experienced anything like that? A sudden surge of power that feels unstoppable or even strange?”

“Be careful here, Dimitri,” the goddess suddenly says, voice tense.

_What is she doing?_

Dimitri suddenly sees a memory that doesn’t belong to his own—

Rhea opens the door for Byleth to the Archbishop’s quarters they’re in right now. Byleth and Rhea chat.

_In any case, professor, how are you feeling? Have you experienced anything strange since you began wielding the Sword of the Creator? Has there really been nothing odd? A tightness in your chest? Strange dreams? Anything of the sort?_

Byleth opens her mouth to says something that the Prince can’t hear. The goddess has ended the memory.

_She senses your presence. How?_

“I do not know. It is possibly only suspicion from her end, but in any case, tread carefully.”

Rhea tilts her head slightly, “Your Highness?”

Dimitri closes his eyes for a second. When they open, he is ready.

“I’m sorry if I seemed distracted, Lady Rhea, but the question simply caught me off guard. I didn’t quite expect someone to know my… situation.” his voice is calm, his posture and propriety polite and proper.

“Oh?” Rhea’s eyes brighten, her body leaning towards the table just so slightly. She seems to miss the apparent anger simmering under the Prince’s eyes. Dimitri is tired—too exhausted from the time travel, from the things he had to witness, from the worries and fear for the past world and the people he loved.

When his best friend is turning himself into Essex and Felix may potentially be stripped of the guardianship and his children potentially be removed from Felix and Sylvain’s care and into the clutches of the greedy, power-thirsty nobles, Rhea is keeping him here with all the nonsense only for some ulterior motives that Dimitri can only guess—keeping him away from his children and his friends, from his duty as a father and a king.

So maybe he is trying to provoke Rhea.

A flash of lightning splits the sky. Heavy rain immediately follows.

“I am indeed troubled by—how can I put it—certain new conditions. I… no, Lady Rhea, I must refrain from talking because it would make me sound totally mad.”

Dimitri can’t ignore the tight and refrained excitement in the Archbishop’s voice, “Prince Dimitri, please rest assured. Your secret is always safe with me.”

Dimitri looks at Rhea for a short moment as if still trying to decide whether he should say it or not. Even the goddess is quiet, shocked by his words.

“I can hear voices, Your Grace, calling me for revenge.”

The goddess snorts and chokes on her saliva. Rhea continues, “Revenge? Of… of course, she would seek revenge. What are the voices like, Prince Dimitri?”

“I hear the rage and regret, Lady Rhea. They keep me from my sleep, waking me up with the most brutal nightmare and visions. They keep coming back to me every day, hour. Minute, bodies burning and reaching out their hands to me, asking me why I haven’t done anything for them, why I am still allowing whoever is behind _Duscur_ ”—Rhea’s smile drops upon hearing Duscur, eyes widened— “to walk on the earth, breathing the fresh, free air that they can no longer enjoy.”

Dimitri can’t find any amusement from the bewildered look the Archbishop gives, seeking a temporary respite in the abrupt long silence that followed his words. He also finds Sothis’ laughs incredibly annoying.

_Please stop laughing. It was the only way I wouldn’t reveal anything by telling the truth. If I lied, she would know._

“Come on, Dimitri. If you lost your job one day, you must become a bard. Your manipulation of suspense and anticipation is fucking brilliant.”

_It is not a laughing matter, Sothis. I am quite offended that you think I was trying to tell a story._

“Weren’t you trying to get some sense of victory out of this? I’m sorry about my reaction, but… just look at her! She’s haha—oh, sorry. I’ll stop now.”

Dimitri tries to relax, but his back only tenses further when it hits the back of the chair. His head hurts so much that it’s going to split.

He doesn’t pay much attention to Rhea’s disappointment when the tea is over, and he can finally leave the room. Dimitri’s mind feels heavy, almost like having a fever. There are distant voices calling for him but so distant that he can’t figure out if they are indeed hallucinations or his hallucinated fear of having hallucinations again. He needs to get back to his room, hiding out until he takes back control of his mind and body. Maybe he will be able to get back to the twins… but what can he do? Even if he got back in time, Sylvain has already killed his father.

Dimitri walks down the stairs to the second floor, and just around the staircase, Felix is waiting for him.

“Dima,” he says quietly. Dimitri can make out the look in his eyes. Felix looks hesitant, almost like fear, treading around a wounded beast—the Prince thinks. It is the only explanation Dimitri can think of.

Dimitri almost turns on his heel and runs away from Felix immediately. Why does he have to be here when Dimitri is at his worst?

“Felix,” his voice is coarse, body tense and throat raw, almost throbbing, “You should stay away from me.”

“What’s wrong? Are you unwell? You… you never tried to avoid me.”

_Because I’m not your Dima anymore. I killed your best friend and your brother years ago._

Dimitri takes a deep breath, trying his best not to slip, “Leave… please, Felix.” _Before you see the depraved, monstrous beast that I am. Before you start hating me as you did in the last life._

“No, please… not you too,” Felix breathes in almost shakily. When he takes a step towards Dimitri, the Prince jumps back and bolts out of the building, ignoring the young Fraldarius’ calls and the pouring, raging storm outside.

Dimitri thinks Sothis is yelling something at him, but he isn’t sure anymore. How is it possible that the goddess talks to him, the worst possible human in this world? Maybe the time travel, the freezing temperature, and turning back time are just another hallucination for a madman.

Maybe if she’d ever chosen to stay with Felix, things would be better. Better than the mire that it is right now.

He doesn’t know when he collapses face down in the courtyard, but when he opens his eyes again, Dimitri knows he has traveled through time again.

After retrieving a little bit of clarity in the cold rain, Dimitri only curses the time it happens—why does it have to happen in front of Felix?

\-------

Dimitri the ghost blinks. He stands right next to Felix and Sylvain’s bed, moonlight pouring in through the curtains.

Sylvain has been holding Felix since nightfall, the Regent’s body shaking involuntarily until he finally fell asleep.

“Syl… Sylv… Don’t go…” Dimitri hears Felix mutters in his sleep, twisting and stirring, apparently troubled by a nightmare.

Sylvain says nothing, only tightening his hold. He puts his chin at the crown of the younger man’s head, nose buried in his hair. And when the distant church bell rings at midnight, Dimitri sees the glistening in the Margrave’s eyes.

Someone taps on the door.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” Sylvain slowly pulls away, sitting up halfway, almost struggling to leave him alone in the huge empty bed. The redhaired opens the drawer to the nightstand on his side of the bed, taking out a bottle of vial that Dimitri recognizes immediately. The nights when sleep evaded him the most, Byleth asked Mercedes to make a concoction. One drop would knock him out. Two drops would guarantee he didn’t wake up until midday.

“Margrave Gautier,” Dimitri recognizes Gilbert’s voice on the other side of the door, “It is time.”

Sylvain’s hands are shaking when he removes the cork. He manages to carefully tilt Felix’s head upward, lips slightly open, one, two drops onto his tongue. Then Sylvain lays him back down, a kiss—one last kiss on his forehead.

_No no no no no—Sylvain! Stop!_

“I love you. I’ll love you forever in all the lifetimes that shall come,” Sylvain can’t stop his tears anymore. “I love you, so I must leave.”

Felix doesn’t respond. He has stopped stirring in his sleep.

When he steps out of the room, Gilbert looks as ragged as he is. Dimitri thinks he has gained more gray hair overnight.

A sigh. “Lead the way, Gilbert,” Sylvain says.

“Are you sure, Sylvain? There must be another way.”

Sylvain chuckles darkly, “Gilbert, have you heard of Essex ever spared anyone accused of patricide?”

The old knight opens his mouth but makes no sound. Maybe the Empire didn’t care much about patricide when too many of their nobles killed their own fathers to rise up to power. Faerghus is different, especially when the deceased bear a Crest. Cornelia convinced the Faerghus lords to sentence Dimitri to death after he allegedly “murdered” his uncle for that reason—Rufus was his guardian, his regent, so the Prince must not be spared for killing him.

They walk down the halls in silence, and when they reach the audience hall, Dimitri hears muffled voices of people talking. Two knights open up the door at their arrival.

The entire Court of Essex turns their gaze when the door opens. Rhea, as the representative of the Church, has a pained look on his face while watching Sylvain walk in.

Sylvain stands in front of them, a lazy smile flashing on his face, “Lady Rhea. My lords. My ladies.”

The minor lord from Ascania scoffs. Dimitri recognizes that he’s the person Felix pointed his sword at during the funeral. “Gautier, I am utterly shocked that you are still demonstrating that outrageous behavior of yours even when facing the Court of Essex.”

“Well, I killed my old man. What else can I do?” Sylvain says as if brushing off the act as another “oops.” It pains Dimitri to watch Sylvain destroy his own image with an act once again—maybe for the last time—for his beloved and his family.

A storm is approaching, sending the signal of its arrival with distant sounds of thunder.

“Please, Margrave Gautier, we still have to hear out your words before making any judgment,” to Dimitri’s surprise, Rhea attempts to save Sylvain. But of course, it is in the Church’s best interest to stabilize the Kingdom. Sylvain, in the end, protects the border between Fódlan and Sreng. “According to Lady Flayn, who flew back to Garreg Mach overnight and gave us a full report of the incident, there was an altercation, and… the late Margrave said and attempted to do things that would be unforgivable, did he not?”

“Lady Rhea, your magnanimity truly confounds me!” Ascania says, raising his voice, “This person, under no circumstances that deemed vital, killed the man who also happened to be his father! And now he stands right in front of us, behaving as if the entire tragedy means nothing to him!”

Rhea continues, “Margrave—"

“Say no more, Lady Rhea,” Sylvain’s smile disappears, replaced by a glint of sadness. “I killed my father. There was no excuse, and no one else was involved.”

“I heard Fraldarius was there,” says Ascania.

“King Regent, Duke Fraldarius,” Sylvain narrows his eyes at the lord. “He has severed his ties with me after the incident, and as you see, he has refused to accompany me to come down here. And if you are implying that anybody present during the incident was involved, you probably should take Prince Alexandre and Princess Sitri here, interrogating them for an answer, and maybe then you’d know how ridiculous your argument is.”

Ascania is furious, but Sylvain cuts him off before he can say anything. “I killed him, and I don’t regret it, so you don’t need to go easy on me,” He turns to Rhea.

“You do know the consequences, Margrave Gautier,” Lady Rhea says.

“I do, and I take full responsibility,” Sylvain is quiet, eyes gazing into the air and empty hallways. The look on his face is gentle. It reminds Dimitri the way he looks at Felix.

Rhea closes her eyes and sighs.

Then she unsheathes her sword. Dimitri turns away quickly, but he can’t close his ears to shut out the sound of the blade piercing through flesh and bones, a heavy and somewhat relieved grunt, and the final sound of a body hitting the floor.

Dimitri doesn’t know what to think next. The world becomes a blur, things from the past, present, and future mingling together to invade his mind. He hears things that clearly aren’t from this world, as if a young Felix is calling out to him, shouting his name.

_Dima! Dimitri—Dimitri!_

He thinks he’s wallowing in heavy rain, and yet his vision stays in the now empty hall that Sylvain falls. The body that once belonged to his loyal friend is now cold. A servant or two are covering it with a piece of white cloth.

Dimitri retches. Where is he exactly? If he’s back in the new timeline, then why is he still seeing Sylvain and the Castle? If he’s still a ghost in the past, then why does he feel utterly soaked and cold and weak in the rain?

He pants and shudders, trying to shake off the terrible voices that just came back to him—the voices that keep reminding him of his failure. And when Dimitri shakily stands up, he finds himself in the Castle chapel. It once witnessed the union of his parents, of him and Byleth. It once witnessed their death, and now Sylvain lies motionless in a casket.

Felix stands in front of Dimitri, eyes freezing on his husband. There are no guests but the Lions and Flayn.

The funeral has long ended, and yet Felix stays no matter how Mercedes and Annette try to bring him back to his quarters to rest.

“Come on, Felix. We should go back to the twins,” Ingrid says. She is still in her uniform for the campaign. Dimitri thinks she probably rushed back to Fhirdiad from the mission.

Felix doesn’t respond. He can’t hear anything, eyes empty and face void of any emotion.

“Felix, we’ve lost so many of us, and with Ashe in Duscur now, what remains of the Lions is just… the four of us,” Annette pleads with silent tears. Mercedes takes her hand into hers, gripping tightly for support. “If you collapse, too, what will… What will happen to us? To the children?”

_Dimitri! Can you hear me?_

Dimitri is struck by the other voice again, lightning to his heart. It has been raining for a day, and yet the thunderstorm and voices Dimitri hears come from far away.

“Leave,” Felix says, without the usual anger or exhaustion. He sounds almost so soft.

“Felix—”

“Please, let me stay with him one last time.”

Mercedes sighs, quietly ushering the girls out. Flayn pauses momentarily from her tears to quickly give Felix a hug. He doesn’t get angry or offended as usual, and yet he doesn’t respond either—no recognition or even a word from him.

When the heavy doors shut close with a thump and Felix is alone in the chapel, he goes over to the casket. He slowly lies down next to Sylvain, a hand gently brushing through the red strands. After a while (Dimitri doesn’t know how long because he has lost the sense of time), Felix suddenly exhales a shaky laugh in the absolute silent chapel. He almost sounds happy.

“Hello Sylvain,” Felix says, “It’s finally you and I, isn’t it? Such a long day. Finally quiet.”

Momentary pause. Felix sits up to remove his blue cloak before managing to wrap them both in the cloak. It is difficult due to postmortem rigidity. Felix lies back down, arms around Sylvain, “Better now. I always say you look horrible in black, and yet they still put you in such a hideous suit. You know what’s funny? Gilbert told me to change into something black when he saw me before the funeral, and I told him to fuck off. You should see his face.”

Dimitri lowers his head, almost too painful to keep watching.

“You colossal asshole, Sylvain. How could you drug me before running off to the Essex people? Breaking our promise in a way that I can’t even make up. You totally took advantage of the boar, didn't you? Because he left the twins to me, I’d have to stay with them. You know we could’ve run to Almyra together. Claude’s place should be better for children to grow up, and we can finally… get away from the court and its politics.”

A kiss on Sylvain’s forehead.

“I prayed to Sothis just now. Funny huh? You want to know what I prayed for?” he pauses as if to wait for a response from Sylvain and continues after getting none. “I asked her, if she’s not bringing you back, I said she could bring Dimitri and Byleth back, so I wouldn’t have to look after the children, and so I could… bring myself to you. Or she can let them grow up quickly.”

Another kiss on Sylvain’s fingers.

“Ah fuck the responsibilities. I’m growing more like my old man.”

A shaky breath on his lips. Dimitri slowly looks up, realizing how gentle that smile on Felix's face is, the same look he recognizes from Dedue when he held Ashe in his arms, surrounded by the flowers they planted together, from Mercedes when Jeritza gifted her lavender on her birthday in the academy, from Byleth after their first kiss, the first time he came to know how gentle she could be.

“Don’t worry, Sylvain. You’ll only have to be alone for a couple of years, and once Alex takes the throne, I’ll see you there.”

Dimitri breaks, body slumping to the floor. He feels a sudden surge of power rushing through his veins. He thinks his body is on fire, an overwhelming pain takes over all of his senses, but he is empowered; this new, foreign force of _something_ charges him with the instinct that he can do something. And then time shatters when he wills it. Time flashes in front of his eyes, and he decides to turn it back, back to Sylvain rushing back from Gautier, opening the door to his quarters, and when Felix kissed him and brought him to bed.

It is a painful process. Dimitri knows his body is collapsing due to the use of the divine power—he is quite sure this is something that only Sothis can do—could do, when she still had full control of her magic. His flesh burns. His soul—if that feeling does come from what Dimitri thinks is his soul—is tearing apart, skin breaking down into flames.

“Dimitri! Dimitri, stop! You will die from using that power!” Sothis yells at him. The Prince remembers Sothis mention how his body would melt like butter if she tried to channel her full power through him.

But he doesn’t care. A little more. Just a little more for him to find _that point_ in the flow of time to make everything right again.

Wait… maybe he can go a little further to Felix and Sylvain’s wedding so he can bring Byleth back. Dimitri reaches back to almost six months ago, but the time flow is stuck somewhere after Dedue died. He wonders why, but if that’s the case, he’ll just bring Sylvain back.

The shards of time come back together, and Dimitri sees Sylvain walking through the door with the terrible smell of Warp. Almost looking entirely confused, Felix is thrown into utter shock upon seeing his dead husband coming back to life. _So Felix is aware of what he just did? How curious._ Dimitri thinks.

“Thank the goddess! Sylvain—you… you…” Dimitri thinks he hears Felix throwing himself into the now very confused Sylvain’s arms.

“Fe, I was only away in Gautier for a few days, and you're like I died or something—”

“You! Tsk… just, don’t leave me again… Promise me you… stay with me today… ignore… a lunch… don't go... take the twins back to Gaut…” Dimitri can’t make out Felix’s inconsistent words anymore. Or maybe it’s his mind playing tricks with him. Dimitri sighs and allows himself to relax.

A familiar sense of nothingness returns to him. It is almost comfortable, dulling the throbbing pain all over his body.

He slowly lowers his body to the floor, waiting for the final moment to arrive.

But when darkness eventually envelops Dimitri, he hears the cries from a younger Felix. He struggles to sleep or wake up, somehow stuck in the middle.

And when Dimitri finally manages to open his eyes, Felix is holding him in the heavy rain.

“Dimitri! What happened to you?!”

The Prince blinks. He can indeed see the 12-year-old Felix. He can indeed feel his hold on him. And the goddess, the very surprised goddess, floats next to the young Fraldarius, looking down at him with absolute shock.

“You just wielded my power, not just in the present but in the past timeline. I can’t even do that,” says the goddess.

“And… and I’m not dead,” the Prince says to the air, only to confuse Felix more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Nothing bad happens! I’m a good person.
> 
> I’ve been trying to give Dimitri the full time power since the beginning, and I was just waiting for the right opportunity. I’m glad that last week I changed my initial story plan to kill Aldric—well, in this chapter he doesn’t get to die. Sorry if this disappoints you—so I can move the story a bit further.
> 
> After we get to deal with Christophe and Rhea, I am probably going to write the Lions when they’re a bit older.  
> Honestly this chapter is so hard to write, but when I get to the second half after Essex, it started to flow.


	13. The Reason You Survived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothis’s realization.  
> Dimitri and Felix talk. Jeralt and Dimitri talk. Dimileth fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is a bit later than usual! But it's mostly fluff, and the next chapter would be fluff, too.
> 
> Trigger warning:  
> Adult alcohol abuse, underage drinking
> 
> Also, I won’t update next week. I have final exams:D

Dimitri and Felix sit near the bridge, watching the rain pour. The Prince knows Felix has been cautiously peeking at him when he thought Dimitri wouldn’t notice.

Dimitri knows he’s waiting for him to talk.

Occasionally, they see one or two people around the age of Officers Academy students. Dimitri wonders if Sylvain did the same in the past, sneaking out during curfew under cover of the heavy rain and leaving the comfort and warmth of his room just to get a good night’s fun with a girl.

The rain muffles all sounds, even the bell ringing ten at night.

“Dimitri, Felix wouldn’t hate you,” the goddess speaks softly.

_You know how he treated me in my last life._

“That’s because you wouldn’t let him in. You knew things weren’t right, and yet you refused to reach out for help.”

_Sothis, he started avoiding me when he witnessed what I did to quell the rebellion. It has nothing to do with communication issues._

“And now he is scared because, for the first time, you are avoiding him.”

Time shatters around them. Dimitri’s eyes remain closed, but he knows the goddess has brought him to the throne room when his eyelids can’t black out all the permeating green light.

Dimitri opens his eyes, standing in front of Sothis and her throne.

“Dimitri, do you know why you got back to Duscur? Do you know why you survived that power?”

He blinks.

“I’ve been pondering over the question ever since we arrived in this timeline, and finally, what you did just now finally made me realize that the answer was always there.”

The goddess gets up from her throne. . She floats across the distance between them, stopping right in front of the Prince, and places a hand over his chest.

“When I created humans, I granted you a heart for a reason. No matter who you are—king or peasant, rich or poor, the most chivalrous and gallant knight or the most notorious, murderous villain—your heartbeats until the last of your breaths.

“When you turned back the hand of time, you did it for Felix and Sylvain of that world, and here… You didn’t see how panicked Felix was. Your devotion to Felix granted you the power to override my current limit, and Felix’s devotion to you, at the same time, overpowered death. Your survival was a highly situational one, and that was all thanks to Felix’s presence.

“And when you died in the other world, you sacrificed yourself for your wife and children, and you would do anything to return to them. I figure that is why when the javelins of light separated me from Byleth, I instead attached to your soul. Love and devotion in your heart, that is, and a heart possesses the power comparable to that of a god’s.”

Dimitri asks, “What about Dedue?”

“The same. When you die, there is a window before your memories depart for the next world while your soul stays the same in every timeline. That is the reason why Byleth… and you could only turn back the hand of time that much. If the person you’re trying to save has already departed, there is no way to bring them back.”

It pains Dimitri to think how many times Byleth must have witnessed every member of the Blue Lions’ death. He jerks his head away.

Sothis notices and sighs. “And Dedue… His death overlaps with your window, and he would do anything for your children, for you. His love for all of you sent him to this world to join your journey again.

“No one should remember their past life. No one should be able to wield my power without my support. And as I said, what happened to you all is all highly situational. The premise is always my presence. Byleth is my vessel, and you, in this very odd situation, somehow host me. This is the first and will probably be the only occurrence in history.”

Dimitri takes a deep breath. “But Byleth…” he stops, partly confused, partly frustrated, and wistful, and angry, and many things else, “He… doesn’t remember me.”

“Byleth’s heart doesn’t even beat, so I don’t know if these conditions even apply to him, but right now, Felix needs you. Go back to him.”

Yes, Felix. The young Felix still clinging to him like a tail, wanting his company and attention more than anything else. ( _This probably has changed a little_ , Dimitri thinks _. Felix has started to change after Glenn went into exile._ )

Dimitri takes a few more deep breaths, focusing on the thoughts of Felix.

The memories of the tension between them in the past still haunt Dimitri. He doesn’t want it this time again.

\-------

“Fe,” Dimitri can’t help using that childhood nickname, “We should go back. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Are you trying to push me away again?”

Dimitri pulls a faint smile, “No, I promise. Let’s have some warm tea.”

It is probably a bad idea to have strong tea this late, but Dimitri knows for sure neither of them is going to fall asleep tonight in the first place. He takes Felix’s hand in his own, silently leading them to the student dormitory. Rain splashes from everywhere—the sky, the corridor roofs, the floor, and ground where the ancient drainage can’t keep up. (He remembers Byleth painstakingly trying to renovate the monastery drains after a few flooding incidents in the wet seasons, but it became too complicated because they didn’t want to alter Garreg Mach’s structure to get a few new pipes in, not to mention no one had any idea what was buried underneath the ground.)

Felix is confused, “Why are we in the dorm?”

“Because the dining hall is closed now. There is a small student pantry in the dorm. The Church stocks it up with tea and snacks just in case anyone needs it at night.” _And just in case Claude wanted to try out a new poison but no one was willing to be his experiment subject. Once, he even had the guts to put aphrodisiac in the chamomile tea Byleth planned to have with Dimitri, and of course they found out before teatime (Lysithea snitched)._ “So usually when we—when people want tea—” Dimitri quickly corrects himself, “They come here.”

Felix hums, thankfully not questioning why Dimitri knows this place so well. They got in the pantry, grabbed a few loose leaves from the cabinet—almond blend, since Dimitri remembers Felix wasn’t into pine needles when he was still a child.

They get back to the guest quarters on the second floor. A door separates it from the hallway outside of the library.

\-------

The two boys each hold a cup of warm tea, sitting in front of the fireplace. They take small sips in silence, the earthy scent of almond filling the room.

Dimitri sets down his cup on the rug lest he accidentally breaks it, “Felix, I apologize that I hurt you earlier.”

“I’m not hurt. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. The bruises when we played.”

“Felix, this is different. I could’ve killed you!”

“And you did not,” Felix snaps. “Why are you so stuck in that… in whatever that is going on in your head?”

Dimitri sighs, “I don’t know either…”

He wants to tell Felix. All the words in his throat, screaming to get out. _I’m mad. I’m a beast. I’m not myself. I’m not the Dima you used to know. I can’t control my own actions._

_I don’t want you to hate me again._

But whenever he opens his mouth, a huge lump clogs his throat, too hot for him to say anything. And so he swallows them all back no matter how terrible it feels. How _desperate_ it feels.

“I… don’t want to hurt you,” Dimitri can barely hear his own voice. He keeps looking at the cup to avoid Felix’s eyes.

“I know, and that is all that matters to me.”

“But I—”

“Stop it. Sometimes you are damn stupid and stubborn like a boar,” Felix’s gaze is intense, red orbs searing a hole in Dimitri’s forehead.

“Then, can you promise me one thing?” Dimitri asks.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes, I may not…” Dimitri feels the goddess’s hand on his shoulders, silently giving him the courage to speak, “I may not be myself, so when I ask you to keep a distance from me temporarily, you have to know it’s not that I’m avoiding you.”

With furrowed brows, Felix tilts his head, thinking, and then, “Alright.” Before Dimitri can say anything, he quickly adds, “But you’ll have to promise me one thing.”

“Yes?”

“When you think you’re better in that… situation, you will always come back to us.”

Dimitri blinks.

_Alexandre, we are always here. I am always here._ Dimitri remembers Byleth holding his cheeks, wiping the sweat-soaked hair away from sticking to his face. He remembers he was panting—he was always panting after waking up from a nightmare. He remembers the warmth of her hands, the softness of her body, and the firm embrace that only belongs to his wife.

\-------

When the Prince later tosses and turns in bed, he decides it must be another sleepless night. Sothis is already fast asleep again, though Dimitri thinks she has been sleeping more than ten hours in the day. He is jealous how easy it is for the goddess to rest.

Dimitri stops at the infirmary. His hand raising to knock pauses a few inches away from the door. It’s quite late, so he probably shouldn’t interrupt the father and son inside the room.

But he wants to see him so bad. He wants to look into the eyes that used to look at him so lovingly and touch those hands that clung to his and no one else’s. Byleth, the love of his life, doesn’t even remember him now.

Love and devotion.

_Maybe I’m not worthy of his love in the first place. Maybe I never deserved her love in the other world_. Dimitri shuts his eyes; his hands close into a fist, forehead and the fists together rest on the door.

Someone yanks the door open. Dimitri suddenly loses balance, falling forward, and before he lands on his nose, a strong hand grasps him on the shoulder, holding him back on his feet. His nose catches the strong smell of alcohol in the room, but Byleth… are they using _liquor_ to treat him?

“Ugh, it’s you,” Dimitri hears Jeralt groan and put away the dagger back to his belt. “Heard your footsteps, and you should’ve just knocked and come in.”

“I don’t want to…” Dimitri’s eyes turn to Byleth, blessedly asleep. As far as he likes to watch him sleeping, Dimitri reminds himself not to stare at Byleth because Jeralt, his father-in-law (not in this world but still—from the past), is standing right in front of him with at least five daggers attached to his hips.

“It’s not like I’m going to get any sleep in this situation. Any normal father wouldn’t,” Jeralt sinks back into an armchair by the infirmary bed; the thick cushion groans under his weight. He uncorks a bottle of ale, taking a large swig, and frowns. “Ugh, the fancy stuff from the monastery. Too refined. I prefer my ale strong and sharp.”

Dimitri takes down a mental note: Jeralt’s favorite—cheap ale.

Jeralt mumbles a few inaudible words and takes another gulp, downing the thing like water. The room isn’t lit to make sure nothing interrupts Byleth’s sleep, so it takes a moment for Dimitri to adjust to the darkness and sees all the empty bottles scattered across the floor.

“I know. I know,” Jeralt sees where his gaze is going, tilting his head back for another go. When he puts down to hold the bottle on his lap, Dimitri sees the bottle is already half-empty. “But Byleth scared the shit out of me today, so I need it. It’s not too many for this kind of soft stuff.”

Not too many meaning a floor of empty bottles.

Dimitri wonders how it is even possible for the former Captain to still stay sober.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dimitri says quietly.

Jeralt quirks an eyebrow, “Why are you apologizing, kid?”

“My negligence caused Byleth pain that he endured for days.”

“But you saved him, did you not? And of course I know he saved you guys, too,” Jeralt sees Dimitri open his mouth, trying to argue, “Look, there really is nothing to apologize for.

Dimitri sighs and nods. He knows saying more would only upset Jeralt, and Jeralt knows Dimitri still feels immensely guilty.

The Prince keeps his gaze low as if the pristine rug in the infirmary interests him a great deal. He hears another cork being removed—Jeralt probably just finished another one, but instead, the former Captain holds the bottle in front of Dimitri, nudging it into his hands. Dimitri stares at him with wide eyes.

“Well? I grew up in Faerghus, so I know how much you folks drink.”

Dimitri hesitates for another moment. He wonders what one should do when his in-law offers a drink. Dimitri has always been careful about his alcohol intake, but now he should accept it and follow suit, right?

So the Prince downs a swig and almost coughs his lungs out. This is not ale at all. Jeralt gives a satisfied smile, “Didn’t expect Lambert’s boy to be this decent. I think my village has a tradition when a boy turns thirteen. I can’t remember clearly if they fed me vodka or apple cider, so I got you what I could find.”

The Prince is pretty sure a normal adult wouldn’t give a kid vodka. He tries very hard to keep his coughing in check, not wanting to wake Byleth up. He has never had any strong liquor neat. In the last world, he only had wine during ceremonies. Sometimes Claude would blend them something special, and Dimitri always had his hard liquor blended with extra water or whatever non-alcohol liquid the Almyran King had in hand (and once Claude really had him drink aphrodisiac, completing the experiment he didn’t finish at the academy).

“You don’t knock back the devil. You sip it, kid,” Jeralt takes the bottle and shows him before giving it back to Dimitri.

“What… what about my father?” when Dimitri can finally breathe, he asks with teary eyes.

“Lambert and the Rodrigue brat stashed hard liquor in their rooms and somehow the provost —not Seteth, he wasn’t here back then—found out because they made a fool out of themselves. The two gave me hell lot of trouble from Lady Rhea cuz I didn’t know my students were drinking,” Jeralt is weirdly talkative today, probably due to alcohol. “In fact, I knew, and I let the Lions know I knew they drank brandy like water, but I wouldn’t give a fuck as long as they didn’t miss classes or show up for a mission hangover. Should’ve told them to stay out of trouble, too. Stuff like don’t be stupid enough to get caught.”

Jeralt sees Dimitri only looking at him, “Drink, kid. You’re too uptight. Learn to unwind a little. It’ll help you feel better.”

Dimitri slowly takes a sip. He still doesn’t like it, but he would try if Jeralt says it would take some of his worries away. “What did they do to get themselves caught?”

“Well, they…” Jeralt pauses, “No, you’re too young for this kind of stuff.”

“You give me a vodka and tell me I’m too young for some stories?”

“It’s not like you’d want to know about your father’s sex life before he fell in love with your mother. Ah damn, I probably shouldn’t have said that either, but… duh.”

That is probably more than what he needs to know. Dimitri swigs, hoping coughing like he’s dying will help his brain spit out whatever information he just took in.

“Sorry kid,” Jeralt reaches over to pat on Dimitri’s back before standing up. “I’m gonna go get a few more. Rhea wouldn’t mind. I think.”

And when the door shuts quietly, Dimitri sits in the darkness alone. His throat still burns, eyes full of tears. And not before long, he starts feeling light-headed. in an attempt to stand up and put the empty bottles away, Dimitri trips over a bottle.

“Dimitri?” in the dark, Dimitri can see Byleth tilts his head up slightly, looking at him blearily.

“Sor—sorry, I… I woke you up.”

“No, I’m alright. What happened?” he sits up slowly, still in pain. Dimitri rushes to his side, helping him lean on a few pillows.

It takes Byleth a moment to adjust to the room full of the smell of alcohol before taking in all the scattering bottles. “He asked you to drink with him?”

“Yes, I think so,” Dimitri doesn’t think so—it was exactly what happened, his faint memories remind him. But he can’t really trust his brain in this blurry, funny state of mind. Is he drunk? He made a great effort in the past timeline to avoid inebriation, and this feeling… It’s not that bad, not like the chaotic parties Sylvain told him about.

“Goodness… Why would you…” Byleth says, quickly pulling Dimitri into his bed.

The Prince is a puddle of water now, spreading willingly over the sheets. _It smells like Byleth_ , Dimitri thinks. _Just a touch more of what reminds him of a forest… but so very Byleth_.

But is he really the person Dimitri thinks he is? His brain painstakingly reminds him that Sothis mentioned something like… a person’s soul is the same in every world, but does it matter if Byleth doesn’t remember him? What if Byleth won’t love him in this timeline?

Dimitri doesn’t want to think anymore. He refuses to think. He only knows he wants to stay with Byleth.

Byleth, on the other hand, struggles for quite a while to finally get Dimitri under the blanket. And as if written in his blood, Dimitri immediately throws his arm across Byleth’s chest, dozes off by his side.

Dimitri thinks he says something before falling asleep, but maybe that’s part of his new drunk hallucinations.

\-------

When the sun rises and Dimitri wakes up, he wants to die.

His head is trying to split itself in half. His body screams for water. And his soul questioning his stupidity of downing almost one third of the bottle.

And when he wakes up, he realizes his body is pressing against Byleth’s; the wood between his legs is enough for him to kill himself.

Dimitri immediately backs away to create a respectful distance but ends up falling off the bed.

“Dimitri!” the awkward sound of falling probably wakes Byleth up, who gets on the edge of the bed, checking what just happened to the Prince.

“It’s alright. I’m—fine. I’m fine. Yes, I’m alright,” Dimitri yammers on, getting himself up. “I should… Goddess, I… I shouldn’t have… I’ll just…”

He turns on his heel and sees a furious Manuela blocking the door, her hand shining with offensive magic pointing at Jeralt’s throat, who was just entering the room with a tray of breakfast, totally unaware of the physician’s presence.

“Where do you think you’re going after getting completely drunk, Prince Dimitri? And you, Jeralt, explain yourself.”

“Well, I…” Jeralt averts his neck and body in general away from the former songstress’ periphery, only to be locked on the spot by a wave of wind magic. “The Prince came by to see Byleth. He was stressed, so I helped him relax.”

“By giving him, a teenage boy, vodka?!” Manuela screams at Jeralt before turning to Dimitri, “And it is necessary for me to tell you, Prince Dimitri, that you were lucky I came by to check Byleth last night. You were severely dehydrated and possibly with alcohol poisoning. I know you wouldn’t want Lord Rodrigue to know what truly happened, so when he asked, I said you got a cold in the rain yesterday.”

“Oh… Thank you, Professor Manuela. I really appreciate it.”

Manuela glares at Jeralt one more time before completely ignoring him, “And now, how are you feeling, Byleth?”

“A bit cold now, but when I woke up, I was fine.”

“Hmmm…” Manuela checks her notes, “I think sharing body heat with the Prince helped you.”

“Excuse me?” Jeralt opens his mouth wide.

Manuela pays him no heed, “I was planning to get Dimitri move to the other bed today, but if that’s the case, he should stay with you for the time being. And the infirmary bed is… well, it fit you two last night, so there should be enough room.”

Dimitri thinks he’s frozen. He feels Byleth’s gaze, but when he turns, Byleth averts his eyes at once. Dimitri’s heart drops. If Byleth has trouble dwelling on the idea of sharing a bed with him… but who doesn’t? He’s a stranger, not to mention a depraved beast.

“I don’t think…” Dimitri says before Manuela cuts him off.

“Then it is settled. Your physician’s order—” she shuffles Jeralt out of the room, “And they need to rest. We shall have a word elsewhere, Captain Jeralt.”

The door slams shut, leaving Dimitri alone with Byleth in the room.

Dimitri doesn’t know what to do. He still stands at where he was when Manuela entered the room, and he doesn’t even have the courage to look at the bed where Byleth is in.

“Dimitri, are you coming back?” Byleth asks, voice strained. _Yes, strained_ —Dimitri is certain— _being left alone with me_ …

“If my presence makes you uncomfortable, Byleth, I can… I can ask for another room. I know last night was—”

“No, Dimitri,” Byleth says, suddenly raising his voice, “I… I was rather warm when you stayed with me.”

Dimitri gapes at Byleth, who gingerly lifts a corner of the blanket, welcoming Dimitri back to bed.

_Alexandre, it’s still early. Come back to bed._

And for the first time of the vodka incident, he gets to see what Byleth is wearing—a loose robe with buttons on the front drooping down on one shoulder, showing too much of his pale skin. His face is so red, just like… _no, probably not_. Dimitri isn’t sure.

Though Dimitri’s mind hesitates, his body already moves. He slowly approaches the bed, and after he makes sure Byleth does want him back, Dimitri lies down next to him under the blanket.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“No, maybe my hands, but I feel better now.”

“…may I?” Dimitri asks, and Byleth then puts his hands in Dimitri’s.

A bit more calloused than what Dimitri remembers from Byleth in the past. The Prince brings them to his chest, hoping it will warm Byleth better.

They are so close, breaths softly fanning the other’s hair. He can feel the heat of Byleth’s body—it is indeed a lot warmer than usual, and yet he is still cold. Dimitri wishes he can help Byleth more than warming his hands, but he is not a physician nor a dragon scholar. If there was anything he could do to help alleviate Byleth’s physical pain, Dimitri would do it no matter what, even if Byleth would never love him back.

“I can feel it,” says Byleth, “Your heartbeats.”

Byleth’s heart never beats. Dimitri wonders if that is the reason he doesn’t remember anything at all, just as the goddess herself speculates.

“It feels nice…” Byleth is on the verge of sleep, “A proof that you are alive.”

_You are alive too, even without a heartbeat._

“Dimitri?”

“Yes, Byleth?”

“Do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“…what did I say?” Dimitri panics. Did he say anything stupid? Saying he’s from the future and making Byleth think he’s crazy?

There is no response because the other teenage boy is already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love conquers all. This fic is secretly a Harry Potter AU.  
> Oh dear old Jeralt dealing with his brats.  
> Anybody like the idea of Dimitri being an unreliable narrator? I’ve never tried it before, so it’s a nice practice.


	14. To Be Near You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some familiar faces. Some more Dimitri fluff.  
> Sylvix fluff after all that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! My exams are done! In the last chapter I mentioned I wouldn’t update this week, but then figured I might lose the momentum, so here we go, a late update.  
> Also, Dima’s birthday was Sunday! Happy belated birthday my dear lion prince!  
> Lots of fluff and some build-up plot today. I don’t want it to be too antsy when it’s a chapter for Dimitri’s birthday. BUT, don’t get used to being comfortable my friends.
> 
> (I was stupid and cut my finger deep enough to go to ER, and it was from chopping freakin green onions lmao. My middle finger of the left hand is now wrapped in a lot of bandages, so it kept hitting the wrong key when I was writing this chapter. Please ignore the typos.)

Dimitri doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Byleth’s sleeping form—soft, vulnerable, too trusting to allow a _beast_ like Dimitri to be near him. But he just can’t stop looking. The Prince wants to touch the older teen’s hair, wondering if it is still as smooth as he remembers. He wants to place a million gentle kisses on Byleth’s face and inviting lips, and maybe the green-haired boy will wake up giggling, remembering everything they’ve shared in the past time.

But Dimitri can’t—hand hanging in the air, an inch away from the green strands. He doesn’t know if _this_ Byleth wants it.

The door to the infirmary creaks open. Dimitri quickly puts his hand back under the blanket, tilting his head to see—it is a very awkward position for him, but when he is still holding Byleth’s hands to his chest, Dimitri doesn’t want to stir him awake again.

The visitors, Dedue and Felix, enter the room with two trays of breakfast. Seeing the two in the same bed, Dedue pauses, looking around the patient room when finding only one bed—Manuela has moved the other one out—but then he regains his normal composure, setting down the tray on a table. Felix, on the other hand, simply goes straight to the bed, gets in, and snuggles against Dimitri’s back.

The bed barely fits Dimitri and Byleth, and now with Felix joining in, Dimitri is sure someone is going to fall off the bed again.

“…Felix, you’ll fall off.”

“I won’t.”

A momentary silence. The Prince watches Dedue divide the oatmeal into four bowls, with a well-hidden tilt of his lips and a glint of a _smirk_ in his eye. There are only two people who can fully understand this Duscur man’s expressions—one is Ashe, and the other is Dimitri.

Dimitri mentally groans, face flushed. Now he remembers Dedue has never seen a soft, little Felix following Dimitri everywhere since he arrived in Fhirdiad after Duscur, when Dimitri and Felix’s friendship started to fall apart.

“Why did you not tell me you were sick?” Felix mumbles under his breath, but everyone in the quiet room can hear him clearly. He sounds… almost sad—sad and a bit angry.

“I was fine when we were talking last night.”

“And then you came to _him_ when you fell sick,” his hand points at Byleth’s sleeping form.

Dimitri blinks.

“Oh my,” the goddess floats on the bed, throwing her form across the three teenager’s bodies—Dimitri never knows a small infirmary bed can fit in so many, “Little Felix is jealous.”

This young Felix still takes him as his best friend. Still needs him. Dimitri remembers years ago when he had a terrible fever, the adults forbade the young Fraldarius from entering his quarters because the disease Dimitri caught was contagious among children. Felix waited outside of his room for an entire day while a worried Patricia and physicians took care of him, crying and begging Rodrigue to allow him to see his friend. And later that night, when Patricia finally left Dimitri’s room past midnight, Felix sneaked into the Prince’s quarters, and the two cuddled together even during their sleep.

And of course, when Dimitri recovered, Felix fell sick.

Of course, Felix doesn’t know what truly happened to his “cold” that he “caught in the rain”, as Manuela claimed, and of course, Felix thinks Dimitri is ditching him for a new friend.

“Do you want to… have breakfast first?” Dedue says, clearly wanting Dimitri to have regular meals but not wishing to disrupt such a rare sight at the same time. (But sadly, you usually can’t get everything you want.”

Felix throws his arm tightly around Dimitri’s waist. _Almost like an extra stubborn octopus_ , the Prince thinks, _refusing to let go_. Yet he refuses to look him in the eyes, forehead pressing against Dimitri’s shoulder.

“Felix, I truly didn’t know I had a cold—”

“But when we were in the rain—"

Dedue is alarmed, “You went out into the rain, Your Highness?”

“Dedue, I—”

But Felix doesn’t give Dimitri a chance to explain, “…and passed out—”

“ _Passed out_?” Dedue takes a step closer. Dimitri recognizes that look on his face. When Rodrigue and Lambert found out Felix had been sleeping with a sick Dimitri, they looked at them just like that.

This is going to be bad. Dimitri groans, throwing the cover over his head.

Dedue opens his mouth, muttering a few incoherent and clearly frustrated syllables, and then closes it again. Dimitri finally removes the blanket from his face, declaring to the two, “Alright, I really am not sick. I came to see Byleth last night and Captain Jeralt asked me to drink with him. I got too drunk, so Manuela kept me here.” As for why in the same bed with Byleth, he doesn’t want to say.

Felix blinks, shooting his head up, his expression visibly relaxed. The knot between Dedue’s eyebrows loosen, but then he tenses again, “But passing out—”

“I smell food,” Byleth wakes up, rubbing his eyes groggily. Dedue stops the remaining words, shaking his head to turn and bring the tray to the bed. Byleth then sees Felix, “Oh, hello, Felix. Are you also sick?”

“No!” Felix flushes from head to toe, immediately letting go of Dimitri and running to the corner of the room.

“That’s good. I’d hate to see another one of us end up in the infirmary,” Byleth yawns. Dimitri suddenly realizes how he looks like Sothis when he just wakes up from sleep.

“Felix, let’s eat,” Dedue says before shooting Dimitri a look. The Prince knows they are going to have a conversation.

\-------

For an entire day, Felix looms over Dimitri and Byleth like a hawk, as if observing whether Byleth is actually stealing his best friend. Dimitri has to endure Sothis’ cackles and teases.

Byleth has gone back to sleep after breakfast, so under Dedue’s intense gaze, Dimitri moves to the Archbishop’s terrace to have a talk with him. It is complicated and weird to explain time traveling to someone, not to mention turning back the hand of time.

But fortunately, Dedue believes him, since he himself has been a time traveler to get back to the beginning in the first place.

“So whenever you go back, you pass out.”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you passed out so much in the castle?”

“…yes.”

“But does it affect your health, then, Your Majesty?”

_Very possible_. The goddess says.

Dimitri takes a deep breath, “I am fine.”

Dedue frowns, trying to discern the former King’s thoughts from his eyes. _He knows_. Before his fight with Edelgard in the Holy Tomb, only two people knew Dimitri’s lies and darkness. One was Felix, because of how closed they used to be, and the other was Dedue. Dimitri always thinks this man from Duscur can read his soul.

But Dedue says nothing. His eyes shut closed for a while before he lets out a sigh, “How are they?”

Dimitri knows he is asking about the twins and the couple. “They…” he doesn’t even know how to put it. “It was a mess.”

“I always knew something would happen between Sylvain and his father, but not… not like that.”

“Aldric crossed a line. He—” Dimitri doesn’t even know the marble rail under his hands are cracking until Dedue puts a hand on his, “Dedue… Can you imagine what he said? He meant to…” Dimitri has to pause for a second, doing his best not to punch anything, “… _violate_ Sitri, in five years. When she would still be a _child_. That monster. I would’ve done the same if I’d been there.”

“Felix and Sylvain will not let that happen, as they have already proven,” Dedue tries to calm him down, “But it was only because you weren’t there, the nobles dared to suggest such a thing, or to even think about using Her Highness as a tool. Whoever is behind your assassination had that clearly in mind. They want the Kingdom in turmoil.”

“But they still can’t find out who they are and what their next step is. I can’t understand why they’ve done nothing after successfully murdering us, after they attempted to murder the crown prince and the princess. I… Dedue, I feel terrible for not being able to be there for my children.”

“But you have been,” Dedue moves his hand to Dimitri’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You have been, or Sylvain wouldn’t be alive, and the children would have lost another family.”

“He's right, Dimitri,” Sothis’ voice echoes in his head.

Dimitri takes a deep breath, breathing in the moist air of summer after rain. It reminds him of his time in the academy He misses those days. _At least things were still… nice and peaceful_.

_Until the war_.

“Now that we are talking about those mysterious people behind the attack and Aldric Gautier’s… proposal,” Dedue says, a hand on his chin, “I am thinking, who gave Aldric the potion?”

\-------

Dimitri goes to the library once they finish talking. The question leaves hanging in the back of his head, so he grabs a few books about sorcery and potions. He isn’t even surprised when Tomas the librarian helped him check out the books.

And it is not a surprise that Dimitri tries not to look at Tomas in order to hide his contempt and disgust. However, the librarian himself doesn’t seem to notice the very obvious distancing from the Prince.

“Ah, I quite like this one by Allison Owens. _An Analysis of Potion and Its Uncommon Usages in the Ancient World_ ,” Tomas says, stamping the library’s symbol on a slip. “Such a rare sight. They rarely allow Owens to appear in the library.”

“Why?”

“Because she studied old sorcery, the kind that isn’t common practice anymore… and this one is—mostly unharmful for the church, but I assume Your Highness isn’t planning to learn about forbidden magic, so you definitely wouldn’t make the mistake of wandering off to find the forbidden texts.”

Dimitri quirks a brow, not quite understanding what Tomas is trying to get from him, so he decides to say nothing. After mumbling an almost silent and extremely begrudging “thank you,” the Prince goes back to the infirmary with a pile of books.

“Sothis, what did he mean?” Dimitri slowly closes the door to avoid waking up Byleth, speaking under his breath. He has been quite tense inside the library after spending every second persuading himself not to wring Tomas’ head from his shoulders right there.

“I’m pretty sure he was just saying the church had taken out pages that weren’t deemed appropriate. I’m pretty sure Claude mentioned something like Seteth confiscated his books back in the academy.”

_Then where can I find the uncensored ones, if he said I could “wander off” to find “forbidden texts”?_ Dimitri thinks, sitting down on the bed with his back leaning against the headboard. But for now, some “clean versions” are enough for him because when it comes to magic, Dimitri can only make a small fire and probably heal a papercut if he’s lucky.

He spends the rest of the day reading. Manuela occasionally comes by to check on Byleth, waking him up for more bitter medicine. Then she sees what Dimitri’s reading.

“Oh, Your Highness! Having an interest in magic, aren’t you?”

“Ah, yes. There are many interesting books here that we don’t have in Fhirdiad.”

“Well, if you ever have any questions, you know where my office is.”

Dimitri almost wants to ask her but shuts his mouth just in time. It’s going to be weird for _him_ to ask about a potion that can make young girls menstruate early, weirder if he has to explain someone tried to feed his three-year-old daughter this kind of medicine. Just imagine the reaction from Manuela…

But the said physician doesn’t know the turmoil going on in the Prince’s head, “And I’ve heard Lord Rodrigue is quite a faith magic user—not to mention, single. Maybe you can invite him to our academic discussion, too.” And she winks.

Dimitri decides to ignore that, burying his face into the book.

Manuela picks up the tray, “I’m planning to discharge you both tomorrow. Byleth seems to be doing well today.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I can return to my room tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, and I’ll let you take Byleth to your room, too. He seems to be more stable when sharing body heat with someone.”

Dimitri’s cheeks turn blood red. Sothis claps, sitting on the edge of a window, and laughs out loud, “I like Manuela.”

“Have you seen Lord Rodrigue and the Knights today, Professor Manuela?” Dimitri diverts the topic.

“They’re having a meeting with Lady Rhea. I think it’s about the strange weapons.”

\-------

Byleth wakes up freezing later that morning, so Dimitri resorts to taking him back into his arms again. Before long, the older teen falls asleep again, body no longer trembling. But Dimitri realizes that, in this condition, Byleth really resembles Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex during winter—extra cuddly, always wants to be near humans, and always spends extra time lying under the sun and sleeping.

So Dimitri pushes the curtains wide open before sitting down in a large armchair. He wraps the blanket around the green-haired boy and holds him in his arms.

He misses this feeling. He misses when Byleth was pregnant with the twins, they used to spend a winter afternoon together. Dimitri would hold Byleth under the sun, a hand rubbing small circles on her swollen belly. The first kick happened just in an afternoon like that.

_It was so very comforting. Dimitri and Byleth were both falling asleep. The King kept a hand on Byleth’s stomach as if trying to keep his child (he didn’t know it was twins then) warm, though Byleth has put extra layers of blanket on._

_The sun was warm. The wind seemed to become a gentle touch on their skin._

_Then he felt it._

_Both the King and Queen shot their eyes open, looking at each other. “Was it…” Dimitri swallows, voice in utter disbelief._

_If Byleth always had an ethereal beauty, then pregnancy and motherhood had made her **divine**. Her gasps from whatever just happened worried Dimitri, but before the latter got up to call for physicians, Byleth tugged his sleeve._

_“Yes… Yes, it was.”_

_Dimitri had to take a deep breath. Before he noticed, his vision was blurred by tears, hand shaking out of excitement. That was a sign that **life** was growing inside Byleth’s body, a gift that was granted by no one, not even the goddess Sothis, but by his wife. His Byleth. His beloved Queen._

_They kissed. Dimitri kept a hand behind Byleth’s head, another on her stomach as if trying to touch his child, to cradle his baby in his hand. He couldn’t care less about the gaze from court ladies, servants, and the Knights. He didn’t have time to care about their giggles, their not-so-discreet peeks from behind the walls._

_“Thank you, beloved,” said Dimitri, lips softly touching the corner of her lips._

“Dimitri,” suddenly, he hears Byleth sighs in comfort, “it feels nice.”

The Prince realizes he’s been rubbing small circles on Byleth’s back. His lips are so close to Dimitri’s neck, breaths tickling his sensitive skin. Dimitri pauses immediately, “Do you… do you want me to stop?”

“No. I like it,” says Byleth, tilting his head up. His half-lidded eyes are still bleary from sleep. Dimitri wonders if Byleth in this life has gained the sorcerous ability to be so _enticing_ , almost having magnets behind those emerald orbs. And the glistening red lips, slightly open, are singing to him.

This is too much.

Dimitri knows this is wrong, but he can’t pull away. As if some force is pulling him in, he leans over. The Prince can count the older boy’s lashes. He is close enough to smell the herbal scent from medicine in Byleth’s breaths. _Stop. Stop_. But he can’t. And somehow, Byleth doesn’t move. He seems to relax in his arms, mouth opening just so slightly and—

“Surprise Dimi—ooh!” Sylvain—Dimitri wonders how and when and _why_ he has to be here—pushes the door open. The redhead opens his eyes wide, staring at the two whose lips are basically an inch away from each other. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” With a wink.

Dimitri groans. Why does everyone have to wink at him today?

Byleth slowly pulls away, going back to the infirmary bed with a deep shade of red on his face. Dimitri lowers his head. _He has made Byleth uncomfortable_.

What was he thinking? Projecting the feelings of him and his wife from the past life onto this new Byleth? Dimitri entwines his fingers together, knuckles turning white, and shuts his eyes. What was he doing? _Just like a depraved beast again_ …

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen,” Ingrid follows, entering the room panting. She must have been running after Sylvain. Then a grumpy Felix enters. His hair glistening with sweat. The training uniform from the academy a little too big on his small form. _He must have been training_.

_But why are they here?_

As if on cue, a smaller boy gingerly walks into the infirmary. The freckled face, slightly blushed cheeks, eyes full of shyness and a bit of fear, and the grey hair.

_Ashe._

“Um, hello… Your Highness. My name— my name is Ashe. I am…”

“Lord Lonato’s adoptive son,” Dimitri blurts out.

Ashe’s eyes widen with surprise, forgetting about the fear for a brief second, “Oh! You know me! I—” and then lowers his head. “Forgive me, Your Highness… I…”

“No, please. You don’t have to be so careful around me,” Dimitri reaches out a hand.

But Ashe simply looks before lowering his head again.

Sylvain throws an arm on Ashe’s shoulders and another around Dimitri, “Well, Your Highness. I heard you fell ill, but I never heard you’d made a new _friend_. Care to introduce us?”

Byleth, now sitting on the bed with the blanket around his body, has been eyeing the three new teens in the room. Hearing Sylvain’s words, he turns to Dimitri, “I can introduce myself. Byleth Eisner.”

“Hey, Byleth! Only a rare beauty like you can attract His Highness,” and another wink.

“ _Sylvain_!” Dimitri jumps out of the armchair, utterly scandalized.

“Goodness, Sylvain…” Ingrid groans. Felid only huffs. For a second, Dimitri sees an older form of the Fraldarius boy. He wonders what happened to make him this angry.

After a brief introduction, they hear a knock on the door. Dedue enters with Dimitri and Byleth’s lunch, but just when he lays his eyes on Ashe, the usually composed man from Duscur drops everything. He has soup over his shirt, noodles on his shoes, and sauce on his pants.

“Are you alright?” Ashe, unknowing any of the thoughts running through Dedue’s head, rushes to his aid. Ever caring.

Dedue can’t say a word, simply staring at young Ashe. He freezes on his spot, letting Ashe wiping away the food from his clothes. But when the smaller boy moves to Dedue’s pants, the Duscur man finally gets out of his nerves, scrambling to stop Ashe, “It’s… I’m fine. Thank you, A—uh…” He realizes he shouldn’t know Ashe’s name now.

“I’m Ashe,” he smiles. “You must be Dedue. I’ve heard people talking about you.”

Usually, when people first see Dedue, they shy away and cursing the “Duscur traitor” behind his back. And yet Ashe, just like in the past, takes him as a friend almost immediately.

Dimitri smiles. He turns to Byleth, still a bit nervous from their touch earlier, “Byleth… do you want to go to the dining hall? We can share a meal together.”

\-------

_Sylvain._

_It’s Sylvain._

Felix gasps, throwing a hand over his mouth to stop the sound from leaving. His husband stands right at the door, just as he did yesterday morning. He smells like layers of warp spells, panting and about to throw up, beads of sweat everywhere on his face.

But it can’t be. How can it ever be?

“Sylvain?”

“Hey—Fe—I—warped… five times… to get back. The spell—and the mages, couldn’t… get too far. Sothis… almighty! Warping… didn’t… feel good.”

Just before Sylvain rushes to the bathroom to throw up, Felix jumps out of the bed, taking two large strides to his side, and waves a heal spell.

The raven-haired’s faith magic has always been aggressive, as such magic usually attributes to the user’s character. Yet even Felix can feel the difference. Something is soft about the spell, something gentle and warm.

“Wow, Felix. It feels almost erotic today,” Sylvain jests. However, when he braces himself for a jab from his husband, Felix only embraces him tightly, his face buried in his chest. “Baby?”

“Thank the goddess…” Felix says, grabbing the fabrics of Sylvain’s cloak and refusing to let go. He was praying to Sothis, talking to Sylvain in his casket and the next moment, they are both here, safe and sound. “Sylvain—you… you…”

Sylvain gently tilts Felix’s head up, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “Fe, I was away in Gautier for just a few days, and you’re like I died or something.” Felix blinks. The exact same words from yesterday. Then… is it even possible that he traveled back in time?

“Miss me that much?” Sylvain’s other hand wanders down, grabbing his rear and slowly rubbing their fronts. Felix whines, kissing Sylvain’s face messily before tilting his head back, letting out a louder moan.

“You!” Felix uses up all of his will power to stop Sylvain’s motion, keeping the horny redhead in place, “Tsk… Just, don’t leave me again… Promise me you won’t leave me again, Syl, and promise me we will die in each other’s arms when we are old.”

“Felix, did my father give you any trouble?”

“Sylvain, promise me first! You won’t run off like an idiot and—and never come back—” Felix’s forehead hits Sylvain’s chest and stays there, both hands on his waist.

Sylvain’s eyes gain a shade of concern, gently grabbing Felix’s ponytail so they meet each other’s eyes. “I promise, just like I did years ago. In this life, and in all the lifetimes that will come.”

They kiss again.

“Now,” Sylvain says when their lips part from the other’s before joining together again, “What did my father do?”

“Nothing new,” Felix says, hungrily devouring the other.

“I’ll kill him if he tries to harm you—”

Felix separates from his touch immediately, throwing a hand over his mouth, “Don’t.” Sylvain looks like he wants to continue saying something, so he presses his hand harder. “Don’t do it.”

After a moment, Sylvain relents and nods. Felix slowly takes his hand back.

They take each other into their arms, staying there and listening to the other’s breaths. Yet Felix can’t relax. He still senses _something_ , or even _someone_ , in this room—something with great power that still vibrates the air.

“Your father will send his retainer to us later, asking us to have lunch together,” Felix just knows Sylvain will say “then we’ll go and I’ll punch his stupid face,” so he adds quickly, “Don’t go.”

“Why? And how do you know he’ll invite us?”

_Because you will kill him before they kill you_. “I—He suggested so yesterday,” he lies. “He wants to use the twins for power, that we always knew. I just don’t think… it’s a good idea for us—for the children—to be near him.”

They lock gaze. Felix almost wavers when Sylvain’s intense, almost questioning gaze meets his, but luckily, he backs down. “Alright. You’re right.”

Felix almost sighs in relief, but Sylvain asks again, “Felix, did nothing really happen? Anything?”

Felix swallows and shakes his head, “Don’t worry. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Sylvain sighs, taking his hand before leaving another kiss on his forehead, “Wanna check our children together?”

“They’re not—” Felix tenses up. “They are Dimitri and the professor’s children!”

Sylvain chuckles, “But now they’re under our care, so they are our kids. Remember we always planned to adopt?”

“You’re insufferable…” Felix lowers his head, but they go to the nursery anyway.

It’s still early. Alex and Sitri are still fast asleep. The maids won’t wake them up until an hour later, and yet Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex is already ready for play. He stays quite impatiently in Sitri’s bed, trying his bed to keep quiet while the twins still sleep, and wags his tail excitedly upon seeing the couple.

“Hello, buddy!” Sylvain crouches down, silently clapping his hands at Lucas. The fluffy golden dog jumps out of the bed and yet charges right at Felix, pushing him down on the floor and licking his entire face.

“Get—get off you wild animal!” Felix yelps, no longer able to keep it quiet. Somehow, the dog shows more interest in Felix than in Sylvain, although the Regent has clearly made it clear to Lucas that he doesn’t like dogs. _Dogs are stupidly and blindly loyal, just like the damn knights_. He said so to Lucas as if a dog can understand. “Help me, Sylvain!” _Damn, why does a dog have so much strength? No wonder it’s the boar’s dog_.

“Well, he probably knows you don’t show him much affection, so it’s his mission to befriend you,” Sylvain shrugs with a grin, not even trying to help. “And we just woke up Alex.”

Alex sits up from his toddler bed, rubbing his eyes blearily, “Hello, Daddy.”

The couple freezes. Sylvain inhales deeply, “Did he just call us—” Lucas happily jumps onto Alex’s bed, getting a tight embrace from the boy.

“Oh, not Daddy… Good morning, Uncle Felix and Uncle Sylvain.”

Felix visibly relaxes, “A dream again?”

“Yes… I think I dreamed about Daddy coming back to see me…”

To Sylvain’s surprise, Felix goes to the boy. He sits on the bed, ruffling Alex’s hair gently, “Maybe it was the goddess. Who knows? Maybe she sent him to visit you, knowing you are a good boy and miss him so much.”

Sylvain gape with widened eyes, “Wow, Felix—”

The Regent turns and sends him a warning gaze. The redhaired shuts up at once. “Do you want to travel, Alex?”

“Yeah!”

“And we’ll ask Sitri when she wakes up, will we?”

“I can wake her up now!”

“Whoa, later buddy. Your sister gets pretty grumpy if you get her up too early,” Sylvain stops him, joining his husband on the bed. “Maybe in spring, when the snow melts and the road safer. What do you have in mind?” He looks at Felix.

“We’ll take the twins to Gautier and then Fraldarius. I want them to run in the field where we used to play.” _And make love_ , Felix’s brain suddenly reminds himself. He immediately flushes—that’s way too inappropriate for the twins.

But that is part of the rare happy memories during the war. When the two houses fought alongside each other, Felix dragged Sylvain into the woods in between days of battles where no one will find them, and that was their first time.

Sylvain smiles brightly, like the boy he used to be. “Sure, and maybe we’ll take them to Duscur to see Ashe, and later to Almyra for Uncle Cwaude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finishing up my grad school applications, so I'm not sure about this and the next week's update. But after New Year, the updates will be regular.
> 
> Updated note 12/26: Happy holidays friends! Grad school application has been hectic. I won’t be able to update 12/27, but I’ll see you guys next week!


	15. Children of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Sylvain is an idiot. (Older Sylvain is an idiot, too.)  
> Christophe and Dimitri chat. Some background story of how the Central and the Western Church get on bad terms.  
> Sothis is a registered therapist with years of experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!!! Bye 2020 I don’t even miss you the door is that way turn right when you get out you will see the elevator adios please don’t visit again.  
> Thank you for your support for the past four months! I’m so lucky that I decided to write this fic!! Hope we all have a safe and happy 2021!  
> Also, I'm so sorry that I didn't update last week. However, I've finished up my grad school application now, so I'm back to the regular update schedule.

“So, you were found in Lady Alina’s bed chamber. Her father, Lord Gwendal, chased you out and almost killed you?” Dimitri pinches the bridge of his nose. He almost forgot what a skirt-chaser the redhead was after spending at least five years around an older, loyal version of Sylvain, who pledged his eternal love to no one but Felix.

“It was more complicated than that, actually, but you pretty much summarized it well enough,” Sylvain grins but immediately yelps in pain—even smiling, tilting his eyes and lips, strains his wounds. It is obvious that he received that black eye and a terrible bruise from his dating escapade, and Dimitri doesn’t want to imagine who punched him, where he was punched, and most importantly, _what he was doing_ when he was punched.

Felix cuts his fried pheasant with all strength as if not doing so would inflict great pain on himself.

“Yeah. I admit Ingrid did help me a lot in that situation, but Gwendal went to Gautier directly for my father, so I had to flee with Ingrid before my dear old grandma raises her sword at me. And we heard you guys were already here.”

“For the record, I didn’t have to flee with you. I only have to make sure you don’t get into trouble again before you make it to the monastery!” Ingrid protests.

“And we met little Ashe here on the road,” Sylvain puts a hand on Ashe’s back, who flushes quite a bit under everyone’s attention. Dimitri notices how Dedue’s lips tilt. “Guess what? He was on his way to meet up with his big brother!”

Then Sylvain winks. Apparently, his facial wounds don’t hinder his constant winking, “And Your Highness, I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” Dimitri puts down his cutlery and picks up a glass full of water.

“You know, knowing what I was doing in Alina’s bedroom, making your move… You’ve grown up, Dimitri,” Sylvain says, wiping away a drop of imaginary tear. Dimitri chokes on the water, earning a few sympathetic back pats from Byleth, who doesn’t seem to notice who Sylvain is talking about.

Ingrid almost wants to scream. From the pained noises Sylvain makes, Dimitri knows Ingrid just kicked him under the table. “Ow! And now the only innocent bean of our group is little Fe—oh!” the redhead notices someone from the other side of the dining hall, “Over here!”

Then a swarm of giggling noble girls comes up to Sylvain. From their relatively religious but still very frilly dresses, Dimitri assumes they’re visiting the monastery with their very noble parents. He averts his eyes, not feeling like seeing Sylvain hold hands with girls one by one and whisper probably sweet nothings by their ears. Ingrid groans with an eye roll. Ashe’s cheeks turn crimson. Dedue continues eating his meal, obviously deciding to ignore such a familiar sight, and talks to Ashe like normal. Byleth, again, doesn’t seem to notice what Sylvain is doing and only cares about his meal.

And Felix picks up his tray and moves to another table immediately. “Felix!” Sylvain raises his voice, “Don’t leave us! I haven’t seen you for months!”

The younger Fraldarius doesn’t respond or even look at him.

“Sylvain, please,” Dimitri sighs. His head hurts a little from the argument, not to mention the restless nights and alcohol poisoning have made him quite tired. (He won’t admit traveling back in time affects anything.)

Sothis hangs her arms around Dimitri’s neck, almost dangling from his body to watch the teenagers have their meal. “I wonder why Felix is so mad at Sylvain,” the goddess says.

_He’s always angry about Sylvain’s womanizing._

“But he probably hasn’t realized his feelings towards Sylvain? Just confused by his emotions?”

Dimitri mentally shrugs.

And for the rest of the meal, Felix eats alone, sometimes shooting a glance at Sylvain before quickly ducking his head. Every time he takes an angry peek at the redhead and the girls, he returns to his food with greater fervor, as if the pheasant and potato wedges and parsnip purée are his greatest enemy.

Byleth manages to finish half of his portion, and Dimitri hasn’t been so relieved for a while. The older teen manages to stay awake for the entire meal, and when the Prince offers to carry him back to the infirmary, Byleth even wants to walk with them for a short while. “I miss the fresh air,” he says. Dimitri wonders if staying in the dragon form makes him happier—the blue sky, great mountains, and valleys, flying across clouds and oceans. It sounds liberating.

The cohort decides to check if Rodrigue and Rhea have found anything from the weapons. Sylvain disappears with the girls after lunch, earning a groan from both Ingrid and Felix.

However, when the rest of them made their way to the audience chamber—

“Forgive us, Your Highness, but children aren’t allowed in during a meeting,” says a young Knight of Seiros after saluting the young heir of the Kingdom.

When Dimitri almost argues he is probably older than him and many of the knights, Sothis stops him by kicking him in his head—how did she do that? Dimitri doesn’t know. He only remembers Sothis did something in his head and now he is left feeling dizzy.

“Don’t forget how old you are in this world, genius!” the goddess pinches his cheek.

_Sothis, can you go in there?_

“No. I can only see what you see, or what your subconscious is… absorbing. Like when you’re sleeping.”

Dimitri is disappointed.

Then they try to climb over to the audience chamber’s windows. Dedue strongly opposes such an idea while Felix rolls his eyes and calls him a wimp. Ingrid is visibly sad when hearing the word “wimp.” That is something Glenn liked to say when he was irritated, and Felix picked it up.

The cohort fails to get past the archbishop’s terrace because someone—or rather, two people, to be exact—are already there, standing post for Rodrigue to prevent any eavesdropping. Well, they might not be so diligent in their jobs because Dimitri and his friends see a man being pressed against a wall while a blond woman kissing him passionately, a leg around his waist. Their hands wander.

“Oh!” Ashe squeals in surprise, making their presence noticed. The man and woman finally separate, lips glistening from their passion. Now Dimitri can finally see who they are—Christophe and Cassandra still have their bodies pressed up against each other.

“Ashe!” Christophe pants, then his eyes turned to Dimitri, “Your Highness, please forgive my… ” Cassandra lets him go, and yet one of her hands remain on the wall next to Christophe’s left cheek. She still has that confident grin on her face, blond hair slightly ruffled.

_If their relationship was the same, then when Cassandra executed Christophe on behalf of the Church…_ A horrible realization dawns on Dimitri. He refuses to think more into it and curses under his breath that he will make sure Ashe doesn’t lose his brother again.

“I will—we will…” Dimitri diverts his eyes, “We will come back later.” Ashe seems frozen in shock, so Dedue is almost going to lift him from the floor, _almost_ , because the Knight who stopped Dimitri from entering has shown up by the entrance.

“Ah, there you are, Your Highness, my lords, my lady,” the Knight salutes again, “Lady Rhea wants to summon Captain Jeralt’s son to recount the encounter in the forest. Follow me, please?”

Dimitri turns to Byleth before replying, “You should probably ask Mr. Eisner himself.”

“For—forgive me…”

“It’s alright. Show us the way,” Byleth nods with his cape wrapped tightly around his body. It’s almost August—the warmest of Fódlan, not to mention they are down at Garreg Mach. Dimitri already feels his shirt sticking to his back, and whenever he held Byleth close for, ahem, body-heat-sharing, he has to admit the green-haired teen’s higher than normal body temperature isn’t making it easy.

_But he does seem to have more energy_. Dimitri thinks, and that’s what matters.

However, when they turn around to the audience chamber, Dimitri sees Felix stops on his spot. His gaze fixes on somebody downstairs. There’s something in his eyes that reminds Dimitri of sadness or even a degree of shock and confusion. “Felix?” the Prince has a hand on his back, tracing the younger Fraldarius’ glance to the garden.

Next to the fountain, Sylvain has a girl in his arms, surrounded by pink and white roses. Their lips are melting against each other, ever so soft, so soft. The two figures bask under the warm summer sun, the warm hue of sunset almost making them a romantic novel—

“Now that I think about it, the Gautier boy is the only Lion born in midsummer. Fitting,” says the goddess, lazily.

_Annette and Mercedes, too, and Dedue._

“Harpstring Moon is still spring, and the last day of Verdant Rain is technically the fall season. Oh, your children are Lions, too. They’re born in summer too… Anyway, is this the first time young Felix sees Sylvain kissing someone else?”

_I think so._

“Well, there goes the tough years laying out for him. He’ll need to wait till the dumb redhead figures out his feelings again.”

Dimitri struggles to find words to—he doesn’t know—comfort Felix ( _But does he need comforting now? Has he figured out his feelings yet?_ ), but the raven-haired boy says nothing, quickly turning on his heel to follow the Knight.

And for the rest of the day, Felix doesn’t say a word.

\-------

“They’ve been following me for months. I’ve seen worse weapons from their side—cleavers big enough to lop off the head from a bull, sharp knives made for cutting huge carcasses open, and they attacked me with them, of course. But then I managed to drag them around just enough to force them to abandon the overly huge weapons. They were too heavy for long journeys,” Byleth says. Though he is talking about absolute atrocities against _himself_ , he speaks with his iconic deadpan tone as if talking about a scientific experiment. Jeralt and everyone in the room, save for Rhea, pale. Rodrigue has an expression close to shock.

Rhea sighs, sadness written on her face. Dimitri thinks she almost looks mournful—

“I see, Byleth. That is the most terrible experience for any individual, and I am just very glad that you survived those attempts. However, may I ask you why you were not with your father at the time?”

Dimitri sees Jeralt’s body stiffen, who shakes his head just so slightly, out of Rhea’s line of sight. Byleth notices it while his face tells nothing, sending his father a very subtle nod that only Dimitri and the former Captain can see. “I was tired of my father’s company, so I wanted to travel around on my own a bit,” Byleth tilts his head, his words screaming teenage rebellion. Seteth sighs. The Prince hears he mutter something close to “Flayn never does that to me.”

“So there might be other similar weapons, and even more deadly, scattered around Fódlan,” Seteth says. “As you said, they had to abandon quite a few.”

“I knew not to leave them unattended, so I retrieved most of them, stashed away at somewhere only I can find,” Byleth says, as if not even registering why people in the room are gasping. “I can help you get them back if you want.”

“That will be the best. However, I trust that you have kept them safe for now,” Rhea nods, her voice calm and gentle. “Thank you, sweet child.”

And that is the cue for them to leave. Dimitri frowns. _She hasn’t explained anything_. And from the look of Rodrigue and the Knights of Faerghus, they think the same.

“Lady Rhea, what do you know about these people? And the weapons?” Dimitri blurts.

“That's it for now, Your Highness,” Seteth says with an air of finality. “You and the son of Captain Jeralt are still recovering, and Lady Rhea still has other duties to tend to.”

Byleth speaks up, “Then you know. Why not tell me? They targeted me after all.”

Seteth wants to say something more, but Rhea gestures to him to stop. “Very well,” she sighs. “I cannot say I know fully who they are, but they’ve been causing destruction for… _years_.” Dimitri senses she is only giving out partial truths. “The Church has its enemies, and they are one of them.”

Somehow, Christophe averts his eyes when hearing that.

“Byleth,” Rhea puts a hand on Byleth’s shoulder, speaking with a firm tone, “You must not let them near you. Do you understand?”

Byleth and Dimitri know they won’t get anything more from the archbishop, so the green-haired teen nods, even though reluctant.

Just as Dimitri and the rest of the visitors from Faerghus make their exits, Rhea stops the Prince once more. “Oh, Prince Dimitri,” she hands him a folded letter. “The letter from Sir Glenn.”

Ingrid jerks her. Her lips twitch but no sounds come out, then turning back towards the door and saying nothing.

\-------

_Your Highness,_

_It has come to my notice that during my stay in the monastery, something happened in the West several moons ago. The Church dispatched several of their representatives to take care of the matter, and from what I heard, it was a mess._

_I do not know the details since the people I talked to avoided such a topic, but I sense trouble from the incident. We do not want any unrest in the West, especially during the current political environment. If you are capable, please see to the matter. My father would be able to look into it._

_Your most loyal,_

_Glenn Aeacus Fraldarius_

_P.S. I’ll help you gather more information on the road, too. The Alliance may know something._

_P.P.S. Damn, Dimitri. Liam is such a pain in the ass. Why did you send him???_

\-------

“He mentioned absolutely nothing about his injury!” Dimitri almost accidentally tears the letter in half. He was expecting something longer after not being in contact for moons.

“Very Fraldarius, duty above all… not even a word about Felix or Ingrid, but his mental state seems to be okay since he can still complain to you,” the goddess hums. “Now then, didn’t something happen in the West last time, too?”

_Christophe and Gaspard. Gaspard and the Western Church. Western and the Central Church. Central Church and Cassandra. Cassandra and Christophe. Cassandra and Duscur. Duscur and…_

Dimitri’s head hurts, thoughts in his head refusing to shut down. “To think after the Faerghus nobles falsely sent him on exile, Glenn still takes protecting me as his duty, even no longer being my Knight…” A bloodied Glenn stands in the corner of his vision, grinning widely, right next to Byleth’s sleeping form in the infirmary bed. He slowly raises a hand, tracing around the older teenager’s neck. Dimitri shoots up from the chair, almost lunging at Glenn.

“Dimitri?!” Sothis pulls him back. “Are you alright?”

The Prince blinks. There is nothing but an armchair next to the bed where Jeralt drank last night.

He’s been tired, so tired. The idea of joining Byleth in bed is so tempting, but he can’t. He can’t when he has work to do.

“Do you need to take a break?” the goddess is concerned, floating around Dimitri.

“I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not if you are seeing things—”

_You can see_ … Dimitri’s eyes widen.

“Of course I can see and hear whatever the ghosts are talking to you. They really are creepy…” Sothis sounds guilty, “I hope I can find a way to ease your pain…”

_There’s no use. I dealt with it last time. I can push through this time again._

“ _Pleeeeeease_. Take a nap. Go for a walk. Let’s stop thinking about the Western Church for now.”

Dimitri hums but doesn’t say anything in agreement, either. Instead, he picks up the letter and walks towards the window. He saw Ashe and Christophe walking in the garden earlier, and maybe he should…

The brunette Knight from Gaspard suddenly raises his head as if sensing Dimitri’s gaze.

“I’m going to talk with Christophe,” says Dimitri when he totally ignores the goddess’ protests and puts on his summer cloak.

\-------

Two minutes into their tea party—

“Lord Christophe, what happened in the West?” Dimitri asks.

The cup almost slips from the Gaspard heir’s hand, spilling on the front of his shirt. The goddess has been quite grumpy after he refused to rest, sitting in the corner of the room, huffing. They sit in the guest quarters, with two cups and a pot of mint tea—Christophe’s favorite.

“I… I’m not sure what you’re asking, Your Highness,” Christophe says.

“What a terrible liar,” Sothis rolls her eyes. “Now we know why Ashe is such an honest sweet boy.”

_I thought you were still boycotting my tea party._

“Shut up. Keep asking questions.”

Dimitri takes a sip of his tea. He can’t taste anything but the brunette’s nervousness. “Please. You must know any Faerghus lord’s trouble is my own.”

He watches Christophe fidget. _Well, then something serious did happen_.

“Glenn mentioned the Church sent out representative, right?” Sothis reminds Dimitri.

_Right_. Dimitri sets down his cup in the saucer, careful not to break anything, “Did the Church order you to not say anything?”

Christophe stills.

“ _Bingo_ ,” Sothis hums.

\-------

“What if Sitri gets hurt? What if they take advantage of her? What if they just leave her alone in the woods, or shoving her down a—”

“Sylvain, you’re projecting Miklan on her friends.” Felix huffs, packing a few sandwiches into a small basket. “And it’s not like they are going on a long journey to Almyra. They are just hanging out in the palace garden for the afternoon!”

“But kids can be cruel. Some of them are much older than her—”

“Yeah? From what Mercedes told me, the oldest was seven. A seven-year-old bully who dare to sabotage a picnic with HRH right under our eyes,” Felix says, sarcastic.

“Fe… you don’t know what Miklan was like when he was that young…” frustrated, Sylvain lowers his head, hands thrown into the air.

“Look, Sylvain,” Felix wraps a blanket around the basket, which will keep the food warm in the cold winter. “Mercedes takes care of the orphans at Garreg Mach. She takes just the four youngest kids on a trip to Fhirdiad, and she will make sure nothing happens.”

“But a few court ladies’ children will be there, too, right?”

“Please, Sitri needs friends. She’s been quiet ever since whatever shit that happened, so it’s not like she can hang out with anyone that’s not Lucas any day!”—Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex, waiting for Sitri to finish changing by the door, turns his head around when his name was mentioned and barks quite excitedly— “She needs human interaction.”

Sylvain takes a deep breath, looking out of the window to see Mercedes walking the children around in the garden. _Just like walking a few overly excited puppies_. Felix thinks.

“Alright, alright,” Sylvain relents, but Felix doesn’t think that tone means “alright” _at all_. He and is about to say something…

Sitri appears from her room with a maid—Lucy, Felix thinks that’s her name. She has been with Sitri since the twins were born but went on maternal leave just before Felix and Sylvain’s wedding. Alex adores her. Sitri isn’t particularly close with anyone after… _whatever shit that happened_ (Felix only calls the javelins of light incident as such), not even Felix and Sylvain, but she trusts Lucy enough to let the maid touch her hair.

“Oh hey, Sitri!” Sylvain grins, shaking off all the worried expressions when seeing the girl. She’s wearing a purple cape with matching colors underneath. Lucy has braided her hair with pink ribbons, way better than Felix’s best attempt. “You look nice!”

Lucas jumps up from the floor and keeps jumping. Then when he finally calms down a bit, he sticks his nose underneath Sitri’s skirt, sniffing.

“No no no no no, Lucas! You bad dog!” Sylvain screams, pulling the dog away.

Felix groans. He knows how much Lucas likes to pester ladies, and now his interest has extended to a toddler.

“Lady Mercedes said there would be boys. Maybe little Sitri will find herself a boyfriend!” Lucy says with a smile, meeting Sitri’s eyes. “What do you think, Your Highness?”

“B—boys???” Sylvain says.

\-------

Sylvain disappears just before Felix takes a still very reluctant Sitri to greet the children. The Regent almost runs because he was expecting his husband to deal with children. So when he is surrounded by a bunch of screaming kids, Felix has to resist the urge of fleeing. He’s always not good with children, and Dimitri once teased him after the twins were born after Alex almost bit Felix’s finger off.

_“Felix, I’ve never seen you scared of anyone like that. To think the most formidable warrior of Fódlan to fear an infant…”_

_“Shut up, boar.”_

And here he is, standing in front of the orphans and the court ladies’ brats, trying to leave them a good impression for Sitri’s sake. “Well… good afternoon,” Felix nods, then handing Sitri the basket and patting her on the shoulder, not sure if that’s to reassure Sitri or himself. “Well… goodbye.”

He totally ignores Mercedes’ amused grin.

Goddess, is he growing into his father? When Rodrigue first introduced him to Dimitri, his old man sounded warmer, right? And more… amicable. Never mind, he definitely isn’t like his father.

But whatever, job done. Just as Felix turns on his heels, sighing in relief, a kid tugs on his shirt.

“Yes, Edgar?” Mercedes rushes to Felix and the boy’s side. She fully understands the Regent isn’t comfortable with children, not to mention someone that up close.

“Um… Can I pay a visit to Their Majesties’ graves later?” the boy has his head low, short blond hair stirring in the wind. He is the tallest in the group, probably the oldest kid who is seven.

Felix opens his mouth, not expecting such a request, “Of course, may I ask why?”

“People at the monastery told me Her Majesty took me in after my parents died in the war… She was… very nice to me.”

_Oh._

“I can go with you,” Sitri says for the first time after meeting the children. “I… haven’t talked to Mommy and Daddy today yet.”

Felix is finally able to leave. He takes a stride onto the stairs leading to the castle, only to hear something shifting in the shrub. _Intruder. Attack. The assassins have finally returned_. The Regent’s eyes narrow, body already reacting. Felix pushes the person on the ground, his dagger at the man’s throat.

“Ow! Felix! Stop! It’s me!” Sylvain yelps.

Felix finally sees it’s his husband. The redhead is covering in leaves. The bottom of his cape is stained by the melting snow and mud, hair ruffled. “What in the world are you doing here?!” he pulls the dagger back.

“Well,” Sylvain points at Sitri and the children. “My fatherly duty.”

“We’re not— urrgh," Felix decides to drop the topic. “Did Seteth somehow rub off on you?!”

“Seteth is Flayn’s brother, not father,” Sylvain says. “Do you think that boy has been too close to Sitri? The one with brown hair? Peter? I should talk to his mother… Lady Baldwin must teach his boy how to behave.”

Peter something Baldwin, a four-year-old.

“You’re ridiculous!” Felix stomps off.

And before he returns to his office, Felix thinks he hears a few ladies talk.

“I was expecting Prince Alexandre to be there…”

“Unbelievable. The goddess already punished Their Majesties, and they’re still keeping that girl in the palace. “

“Isn’t it a tradition to raise Crestless princes and princesses somewhere else?”

“I’m glad I didn’t bring my daughter today…”

Felix pauses, almost ripping off the handle of his door.

\-------

After an hour of chat, Dimitri finally figures out what happened in Gaspard.

Two weeks after Duscur, a _monstrous, gigantic beast_ , “unlike anything they’d seen in the past,” appeared near Magdred, right in between Gaspard and Charon. Due to its vicinity to the Church, Lord Lonato and Count Charon reported the abnormal incident to the archbishop after getting no response from the King Regent. Rhea immediately dispatched a small elite team of mages and even one cardinal to eliminate the beast. Since Magdred was within its borders, Gaspard sent Knights and soldiers on the mission. Christophe was among the ranks. Even the Western Church joined the army, with their bishop leading the Church soldiers.

“The beast… bore a Crest,” says Christophe, voice trembling.

“A demonic beast, huh,” Sothis says.

Many knights and soldiers died in the process, including the Western Church bishop. According to tradition, he was supposed to receive a grand funeral and proper burial at the monastery for his sacrifice, and the archbishop should be the person officiating. However, Rhea ordered a gag order, forbidding anyone to talk about the incident. As a result, the bishop was buried in secret, with no ceremony, no mourners, only a hasty burial before daybreak.

And that offended the Western Church—no, _infuriated_ should be the word.

“The nobles made a plea for my father to negotiate with Lady Rhea, but he hesitated for… political reasons. I took up the request because I believe the Western Church was wronged in the process. We cannot let people lose faith in the Church. That will only undermine the legitimacy of our Kingdom. Don’t you agree, Your Highness?”

“I commend your sense of duty, my lord. Faerghus is, in the end, a holy kingdom. Our ties with the Church can be traced to the beginning of the foundation, and our legitimacy relies partly on divine blessings. However, have you done anything with the matter, yet?”

“I already talked to Lady Rhea. She was… not very happy.”

That’s possibly the biggest understatement of the year.

_Shit_. Dimitri and the goddess say in unison.

_It’s happening again_. Dimitri’s head splits, the ghost laughing at his back.

“Your Highness?” Christophe almost stands up, concerned.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

Lambert whispers, “See, my son. You were right here in the monastery, and you got yourself drunk, and Christophe is getting himself killed again.”

_Dimitri,_ the goddess says. _Dimitri, don’t listen to them_.

“Failure. Failed again.”

“Alright, Lambert! You’ve said enough! Get out! Get out get out get out!” Sothis swats the dead king and his companions, pausing the time in the process.

Dimitri doesn’t even register when time shatters around him. The laughs still echo in his head, but he knows the dead are already quiet. He only needs some time to let the voices and echoes and the pain in his head ebb.

The Prince finds himself kneeling in front of Sothis’ throne, face in both hands. The goddess floats around him before finally settling down on his right, eyes full of pain and empathy.

“Dimitri?”

“It’s alright… I’m used to it.”

“No, it is not alright. Come here,” Sothis opens her arms, bringing the Prince in. “You have the right let off the burden for a little while, my prince.”

“I can’t… Send me back. I still have to—”

“Dimitri, you first have to admit you need to recover before the healing process actually starts. You have to accept that you are suffering, just like you accept and help others in pain as well,” her voice is soothing, almost motherly. “Now, Christophe is still alive. Rhea hasn’t executed him. We still have time.”

\-------

The goddess sends him back once Dimitri has found some temporary peace. Christophe is still half-standing, concerned.

“My apologies, my lord. It seems I still have a bit of fever, but it’s nothing to be concerned with,” Dimitri says, voice calm as usual. “However, Christophe,” Dimitri switches from the official title to casual, and the brunette tenses before relaxes and tenses again. “Please, at ease. I plea that you make yourself comfortable around me. I am saying this not just as your crown prince, but as your ally… and friend if you’d allow me. You are putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Who were the people asking you to negotiate with Lady Rhea?”

“Some pious minor lords and gentry. They requested my assistance after having the unsuccessful meeting with my father.”

“And why did they have to ask your father and, later, you? The Western Church has had its own system, and they would have a new bishop after the terrible tragedy, and it would be the new bishop’s duty to seek justice for his predecessor. The Church always has a degree of autonomy, and, forgive me for being blunt, it is clearly a violation for a Faerghus lord to negotiate Church business with the archbishop. It is only expected that Lady Rhea would be offended, especially when the Church already had to handle such an abnormal and sensitive incident, although we still do not know the reason behind.”

Christophe gapes. “I… Your Highness, do you mean that… they used me?” and he finds his answer from Dimitri’s silence. “No…”

“My lord, when we went to the terrace, you and Lady Cassandra were the only nobles not in the audience hall. Even the Knights were allowed in. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Indeed… I… I was surprised when the archbishop asked me to stand guard outside of the room instead of staying for the meeting… Sandra—Cassandra was allowed to go in, but she… chose to stay with me,” Christophe takes a deep breath. “My sincerest apologies, Your Highness… I have caused the Kingdom unnecessary trouble. I… if only I had listened to my father…”

Dimitri presses a hand on his shoulder, “Christophe, leave the matter to me. Do not do anything from now.”

There are many expressions glinting in the Gaspard Knight’s eyes, and yet Dimitri sees something new. Christophe straightens his back as if in the presence of a King, “Yes, Your Highness.”

After the Knight leaves, Dimitri sinks into his chair, a hand tugging his collar loose.

“Good analysis, Dimitri,” Sothis says.

“Thanks,” says the Prince, voice written with tiredness. “I feel so weak, Sothis, now and in the past world. If only I had power… I—I could’ve stopped so many tragedies, saved so many from deaths.”

“But you are more powerful now, Dimitri. You have the knowledge of a King, who survived a brutal war and laid out the foundation of a new unified Kingdom. You are not the young crown prince anymore. You are the Savior King.”

“I… probably, but still…”

“Well, don’t worry. My plan is to put you on the throne soon.”

“Soon? I’m not of age… No, you’re not actually asking me to kill my uncle, right?!”

“Dimi—ugh, you think I’ll let you do something that stupid to lose all the legitimacy of yours as the crown prince and throw you back to prison?! That obtuse mind of yours… Why did I even give humans a brain at all?”

“Forgive me… Just, what are you planning to do?”

The goddess smirks. “Well, you won’t be the _de jure_ monarch for another five years, but let’s get you _de facto_ power first,” she pauses before continuing. “And fuck Cornelia.”

\-------

When Dimitri returns to the infirmary room and Byleth is nowhere to be seen, he panics. The Prince runs around the monastery, asking everyone if they’ve seen a boy with green hair until he runs into a familiar figure.

“Excuse me, sir,” Dimitri asks while the person has his back at the Prince, minding his own business. “Have you seen… Oh, Captain Jeralt!”

“Looking for my boy, princeling?”

“Um… yes. He wasn’t in his room, so I was…”

“Worried?”

“Yes—no! I mean… yes.”

“Huh, you care a damn lot about my son. For a prince…” Jeralt says. Dimitri feels cold air behind his neck. However, the former captain doesn’t seem to mind. “Well, I swung by to bring him dinner, and he wanted to go fishing after. He should still be near the pond now.”

Right, the fishing pond, all the way south of the monastery. Why did Dimitri not think about it in the first place?

And when Dimitri makes his way to the pond, he sees his friends and a few students of the academy surrounding Byleth, who is carrying something in his arms. “Byleth!” he beckons.

Byleth raises his head, a rare smile on his face. Dimitri’s heart almost stops beating.

“Ah, Your Highness!” Ingrid greets him before Dedue and Ashe can. Sylvain is still somewhere else, dating girls probably. Felix kneels next to Byleth, a bottle of milk in his hand. “Look what Byleth found!” the girl grins.

Dimitri directs his gaze to Byleth’s hands—a small Blaiddyd Rex, probably no more than one moon old, is squirming and whimpering. It looks so dirty, covered in grime and even a bit of blood. “A bunch of bigger dogs were biting him when we found him earlier. He was probably too hungry and tried to steal their food,” Ashe says.

“He isn’t old enough to eat normal food yet,” Byleth says, instructing Felix to tilt the bottle just so more slightly so the puppy can eat. “I’m going to keep him,” and nods.

_“Alexandre! He’s so adorable… I wonder where his mom is,” Byleth says, all of her attention on the weak puppy. Dimitri isn’t jealous. He isn’t jealous. He really isn’t jealous at all. “I’m going to keep him.”_

_That is the day after their wedding when the royal couple is about to return to the capital and meet the people. They’ve prepared for the wedding for almost a year now, and the people of Fódlan are expecting to see their new Queen. (Though they’ve seen her as the archbishop for a while… a Queen is still a Queen—secular, less distant.)_

_Dimitri has never seen so many stars in Byleth’s eyes. “As you wish, beloved, but do you have a name in mind?”_

“Lucas is a good name,” says Byleth, his face turning back to the deadpan expression.

_Sothis._

“Hm?”

_What’s going on?_

“Don’t worry. Your good old happy dandy Lucas in the other world is still alive and horny. I’m pretty sure it’s just Byleth always wanted to name a dog Lucas.”

\-------

It is not even surprising that Manuela basically _melts_ at the sight of small Lucas, who whips his tiny tail to greet his new songstress friend. She not only allows the puppy to stay in the infirmary room (but not in bed, Dimitri is quite glad that he is the only one who gets to, _ahem_ , share a bed with Byleth) but bathes him, treats him for lice and any potential disease (“A clean bill of health!” Manuela exclaims excitedly), and finally feeds him quality milk.

And now, Byleth is sitting in the armchair with the small golden fluffy bundle in his arms, and Dimitri reads. He remembers many nights just like this, Byleth cuddling their children while he finishes up paperwork before joining them. To think, the dog does have… blond hair? It’s just like Byleth is holding their blond twins again and Dimitri is…

_What am I even thinking_ … Dimitri groans, almost wanting to slam his head with the huge book.

“Dimitri, are you a magic user?”

Dimitri pauses when Byleth asks. Somehow, he still flusters when Byleth talks to him. “No. Why?”

“You’ve been reading that book about potions all day today, whenever you have time. What are you reading about now?”

“There is something that can make your eyelashes grow ridiculously long. It seemed to be a... high fashion back then. Then there is a potion that can… freeze a person’s blood flow, or hemodynamics, and somehow keep that person alive... for a short period of course, depending on the maker’s skills.”

Byleth hums, “What’s the recipe?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a book about potions. It has recipes, right?”

The Prince didn’t expect Byleth to be interested. “Well, yes… we may be able to procure the ingredients, but Owens does mention it requires a high level of reason magic.”

“We can try. It’s not like I have much to do when my health is not in great shape. Do you think there’s a recipe for love, too? To make a person fall in love with another?”

“…a love potion?” Dimitri almost chokes. _Is Byleth trying to_ …

“I’m tired of watching Sylvain fool around all the time while Felix gets hurt.”

“Ooh. _Ooh_.” Dimitri nods quickly.

Sothis snorts, “Well, this one is only oddly perceptive on certain things.”

_Sothis, may I ask you something purely academic?_

“Hm?”

_Say, if there really is a love potion, and if I coax Byleth into drinking it, do you think he will immediately fall in love with me?_

A long pause from the goddess.

“You’re unbelievable.”

_This is a pure academic hypothesis—_

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have any academics in mind when asking.”

Lambert the ghost huffs, “Depraved.”

“Oh shut up Lambert,” Sothis throws her shoe at the ghost before turning to Dimitri. “Is he going to stay around all the time? He is annoying!” she hops off the edge of the window to retrieve her sandal.

_I don’t know. They come and go._

He pauses when recalling what Rhea said today. The Church has enemies all the time, and those people are only one of them…

_Sothis, do you recall any people like that?_

The goddess stills, lips straightening into a line. “I… Can we not talk about it, please?”

_Alright. Are you okay?_

“No… not quite. It’s not like I can recall something clearly but… oh no, my head hurts too much.”

_Please stop thinking about it. It’s alright._

Dimitri reads a few more pages before finding Byleth already asleep, curling up in the armchair. Lucas is lying on his chest, tiny head at the crook of his nape and an ear covering his eye as if trying to blackout Dimitri’s candlelight.

The Prince chuckles, thinking about how many nights they spent together like this ended with him carrying Byleth to bed.

He smooths out a few strands of hair from Byleth’s face after getting in bed, gently kissing the older teen’s hand and putting it under the blanket. “Good night, Byleth. Sweet dreams.”

Of course, when Dimitri the ghost opens his eyes, he’s back in Fhirdiad again.

And of course, Aldric is still there, looming up from a window on the third floor, watching Sitri and a bunch of children. Dimitri flinches in disgust, but he isn’t even surprised to find him still here. Then the dead King turns around only to see Sylvain hiding behind the bushes.

Dimitri snorts.

But seeing the two watching in the dark… Suddenly, the idea of sneaking behind Aldric dawns on him, and Dimitri quickly comes up with a plan. A bold one.

He smoothly finds Alex at the same spot in the training ground. Dimitri used to take the twins to watch people spar. Now, the young Prince is watching a few knights practicing, eyes fixing on their form and the grip on the lances.

“Alex, can you see me?”

Alex’s head shoots up, eyes widening when seeing Dimitri. He has been too focused on watching to notice his father’s return. “Da—”

“Shh,” Dimitri hushes him just in time. The Knights aren’t paying him much attention. “You cannot let people know you are talking to me, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex lowers his voice at once. Now, only they can hear each other. “But why?”

“Because… many people are dumb, and they are terrified of things they think that don’t exist.”

“Okay,” Alex nods, eyes brightening up. “Are you back to play?”

“Of course, dear. Now, you remember our game of treasure hunt, right? Mommy hides an item, and we look for it.”

“Yeah!”

“Now, Lord Aldric hid something in his room. Shall we go look for it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jslekjfiwoejrkljfsd cliffhanger!!  
> Now Lucas joins the team.  
> I’ve been wanting to write Sylvain as an overprotective daddy for so long. The former skirt-chaser and now worried father with a daughter is my head canon.  
> In the original timeline, Byleth didn’t recruit anyone from the other houses (I will elaborate in future chapters), but all professors and knights joined the Lions during war phase.


	16. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The father and son cause some trouble. Felix and Sylvain are concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes me miss my buddy Lucas so much. ;;;;-;;;; I hope doggo heaven is a nice place.

Aldric’s quarters are meticulously clean and organized. The quarters consist a foyer where Aldric keeps most of his heavy cloaks, a medium-sized drawing room, two bedrooms with private baths—standard for most of the guest apartments since many bring their spouses—and a study. Based on the number of his personal items, Dimitri figures the Gautier lord has been here for a while and is planning to stay longer.

However, his room lacks any traces of personality. The vases are empty though the castle maids usually change flowers every day, but Dimitri remembers Aldric is allergic to pollen. There are frames placed around the quarters for guests to put in portraits of their family, just in case anybody gets homesick in the castle, and Aldric has put in absolutely none except a few sketches of Lance of Ruin and the Crest of Gautier. Dimitri, staring at the frames with the ridiculous images, wonders if he ever remembers his wife who died giving birth to Sylvain’s younger brother, who didn’t live more than three minutes in the world (Aldric didn’t mourn for his son at all because he didn’t possess a Crest).

What is Aldric doing in the capital anyway? Dimitri looks around the room and sees a few pages of an unfinished manuscript. They appear to be part of a larger work— “A Discussion of Crest Values and their Importance”—and Dimitri immediately loses interest.

“What is that?” Alex tilts his head, just like Byleth likes to.

“Nothing, just some stupid gibberish. Now, we’re looking for a small glass bottle, and maybe he hid something else for us, too!” Dimitri tries to be as cheerful as possible. “I… can’t touch anything, so would you lead us, my big boy?”

Alex’s eyes light up, and he immediately dives into searching. He has always been good at the treasure hunt game, especially when teamed up with Sitri. There are no weird corners he can’t find, no neglected spot he can’t see, and Byleth used to joke that the future Blue Lions House will have another lock picker.

Dimitri overheard a maid mention Aldric often stays in the castle library for two hours after lunch. He isn’t sure how long Aldric has been away, but they have to find whatever Dimitri needs before the former Margrave return.

Or Alex will have trouble.

“Your son has a Crest, and he is the heir to the throne,” Dimitri doesn’t know when Sothis has shown up, but she indeed has been looking at them for a while. “He wouldn’t do anything to little Alex, but he definitely would be alarmed.”

But after ten minutes, Alex can’t find anything except a few random bottles that turn out to be deodorant and post-shave balm.

_Where did he hide it?_

Dimitri is frustrated, but that frustration suddenly turns into alert when he hears the door to Aldric’s quarters creaks open. “Alex, hide under the table.”

“Why?”

“Do it. _Now_.”

The twins are always a bit scared of Dimitri’s scowl or the tension in his voice when their father is having a bad day. The late King tried very hard not to show his other side to the children, but a family living close together always gets to see everyone in every state of their emotions. Alex silences up when hearing how serious Dimitri sounds and does as he ask. He slid under a table while Dimitri prepares for an attack despite the fact that he can’t touch anything. Even the goddess narrows her eyes.

And then a fluffy golden bundle happily enters the room, carrying a huge cloak of Aldric in his mouth and tearing it playfully on his way. Lucas sees Dimitri and his eyes can shoot stars, jumping and wagging his tail with great enthusiasm.

“Oh, it’s you, Lucas…” Dimitri relaxes. The dog immediately drops the cloak and bumps his head against Dimitri’s knees, waiting for a hug, but of course, he touches only air. The dog whines. Alex crawls out of the table and dusts his knees.

And Dimitri realizes a small vial has fallen out of the cloak on the carpeted floor, rolling its way towards the door. The late King tries to pick it up before realizing he’s a ghost, so Lucas gets the first chance, picking up the round bottle like it’s his favorite toy.

“Lucas, you’ll break it!” Dimitri panics. _What if the dog accidentally drinks what’s inside and gets poisoned_?

Lucas raises his eyebrows before lowering them, and he lays flat on the floor, toying and licking the bottle in his mouth.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dimitri tries to recall how Byleth gives the dog commands, but they never seem to work with him. Alex is back to searching the room, leaving Dimitri alone handling the dog. “Give me.” The dog only looks at him, snout averting from his general direction. “Give, me!”

“You really are pathetic, you know?” Sothis sighs and pushes Dimitri aside. She walks towards the dog, who doesn’t seem to be able to see the goddess, but when she speaks— “Spit the bottle out, you animal!”—Lucas looks around confused for a moment before finally letting go of the vial.

Dimitri looks at Sothis with widened eyes, “How did you do that? He can see you, too?”

Sothis rolls her eyes, “C’mon. He cannot. I’m the creator of everything, and it’d be ridiculous if I couldn’t command a dog.”

“Daddy?” Alex tugs on Dimitri’s shirt excitedly. “Are we also looking for these?”

It’s a bundle of letters.

“Letters, Alex?” Dimitri is confused. They’ve seen quite a lot of letters in the room so far.

“I found them in the wardrobe! Under a lot of socks.”

“ _Oh_ ,” says the goddess. “Your kid is a natural spy!”

_Oh please, Sothis…_ Dimitri groans before turning back to Alex, “Can you lay them out for me, please?”

The boy unfolds the pieces of paper before running back to search the room, leaving them on a nearby surface for Dimitri. Sothis hovers over him and the table, and they read along.

_My lord,_

_It is my greatest honor to receive your inquiry. Since our last correspondence…_

“Skip that,” Sothis points at the first page full of flatteries and small talk, so they move on to the next.

_…though I understand my lord’s concern._ _Attached to the parcel is the powder you need, which shall last you four months. You may choose any liquid as the solvent, but alcohol should be the most effective. We keep in mind that your lordship puts the highest priority on Her Highness’s wellness and general health_ _…_

“Does he?” Dimitri asks.

“Well, he has no reason to want Sitri dead, right? She needs to be alive to have children,” says Sothis. Dimitri shoots her an extremely uncomfortable look. “Right, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about your daughter like that, but that’s what he wanted, isn’t it?”

_Her Royal Highness will menstruate in five years should she starts taking the medicine soon. It has been tested that the younger a girl starts the treatment, the easier it is to bear children with Crest. I assure you, my lord, that it is the safest approach for House Gautier to continue its heritage._

_However, I have to express my confusion again since your lordship has refused the other method I suggested. Although you have heard rumors of how drastic this approach is, or how dangerous it is, we have since then improved our spells and medication. Any medical treatment, of course, has its risks, but the method has been much safer compared to two decades ago. If Her Highness comes to bear a Crest—or two if my lord desires so—it shall be much easier for her to continue the Gautier bloodline and Crest, and more efficient than the current approach my lord has chosen._

_The medication treatment we are proceeding with right now has a higher chance of failure, though imposing lower risks of life-threatening conditions, and it requires our aides to give Her Highness the dissolved potion on time every day. Any missing dosage may result in either late menstruation or treatment failure._

_…_

_We respect your lordship’s choice. However, I suggest that my lord shall keep an open mind on the matter because should you change your mind later, we’d still have time to switch to the other approach. If my lord desires a better outcome, we always welcome Her Highness to stay in our estate when…_

Dimitri doesn’t realize he has been fuming and Sothis has been trying to get his attention. When he finally drags himself back to reality, somebody has already opened the door, footsteps coming from the foyer. Sothis is freaking out, “Alex is still in there!”

_He’s already in the room. How can Alex get out?_ Dimitri looks around and locks gaze with Lucas. He suddenly has an idea. He remembers just how many times the dog chewed on his manuscripts and documents whenever he left them scattered on some low table.

The late King claps his hands with great fervor, using the tone for his children. “Lucas! Lucas, I’m here! Are you excited to see me?” He waves his arms over the letter. “All these pages! Want a bite?”

The dog doesn’t waste any time to start eating the letter, tearing and scratching and chewing the paper like it is the most delicious thing in the world. It only takes seconds for the letter to turn into disgusting wet bits, glued to each other by Lucas’s saliva.

“Alex!” Dimitri turns to the boy, finding him searching the wardrobe. “Come! Let’s play with Lucas!”

Lucas barks and barks, getting ready for a regular roughhouse. He runs around, bumping into furniture and almost breaking a few antique vases as if he’s on a hunting trip with the royal family. Alex giggles loudly, almost out of breath. The footsteps pause.

“Alex, hide the bottle in your cloak,” Dimitri says quickly, not able to relax until the boy slides it into his inner pocket. When the ghost raises his head again, Aldric is already in front of them.

The older Gautier frowns at Alex, “What are you doing in my room, Your Highness?”

“Uh—” Alex looks at Dimitri, who is standing behind Aldric.

“Say he was looking for Lucas,” says the goddess, which Dimitri tells Alex.

Alex turns back to Aldric, “I was looking for Lucas to play! And somehow he was here…” As if on cue, the dog comes to an abrupt halt back in the living room, toppling a shelf and smashing a few frames with the Crest of Gautier inside.

Aldric growls at the dog, who simply comes to Alex, putting his head under the boy’s hand and waiting for some nice scratching.

“And try to look like he is scared of this Aldric person,” Sothis says.

_I am not telling my boy to do that._

But perhaps because Alex has always been a nice boy, he lowers his eyes to the floor, mouth pouting, “I’m sorry, Lord Aldric. Lucas ruined a lot of your things…”

“And now we’ve got a natural actor!” Sothis hums, amazed.

Aldric looks over into his bedroom—apparently, Lucas has trampled everything he saw in the way like a tornado—and sighs.

Before the lord can finally say something, someone else knocks on the door which is left open. Dimitri sees Felix.

“What’s going on? I heard noises like something was trying to turn the house upside down.”

“Lord Fraldarius, maybe you should learn to control your animals first, after realizing how terrible you already are when it comes to controlling children,” Aldric says.

Felix gestures Alex to come to him, the dog following him. “Well, I’m afraid we are having some misunderstanding here,” the Regent says. “The dog isn’t mine. He belongs to the Prince and Princess, now that their parents are dead.” He pauses with a grin. “And I never control children. Maybe that’s your expertise?”

Felix turns. “We’ll bring new furniture into your room,” and he slams the door shut.

\-------

When the Duke, the boy, and the dog enter the office belongs to no one but the Regent, Dimitri the ghost comes in through the wall on their heels.

“Alex, why were you there?” Felix says. He has never shown anger in front of the twins, but now he is on the verge of bursting. “Do you know that man was trying to—”

But Alex cuts him off by showing him the vial.

The Regent gapes, “How did you…”

“I was playing treasure hunt with Daddy!”

“Alex! You can’t tell anyone!” Dimitri sighs.

“Oh, not Daddy then. I was playing a treasure hunt with no one!”

Dimitri and Sothis let out a collective groan.

Felix blinks. He takes the still-tacky-from-dog-spit vial, trying to not feel gross in the process.

“Daddy! Let’s go play!” says Alex, quite excitedly. Dimitri’s heart compels him to follow the boy, though the ghost himself really wants to apologize to Felix first.

And the Regent looks at Alex as he leaves, wondering what is going on in that boy’s head. _Why does he keep saying the boar is with him?_

\-------

The Regent really is having trouble deciding what to do with the things Alex finds, let alone the questions of _how the hell that boy found them at all_. Surely, Lucas has a preference for everything that resembles a blanket (he stole Dimitri’s blue cape all the time, the one he wore during the war), and he may have happened to find the bottle by accident. What about the letters, then? Why would a toddler suddenly decide to go into Aldric’s personal items out of nowhere?

Felix sighs as he raises his head to look at a statue of Sothis in the chapel. Some passersby have been quite shocked to find the Regent here, who was renowned for his distaste of praying in general, and yet here he is, praying to their creator. The raven-haired man has stopped the effort of sending everyone murderous a gaze since there are too many that are looking at him, and bothering himself to silently shoo everyone away would be nothing but a distraction, a chore. He has decided to simply ignore them as if they never exist in the first place.

However, Felix does come to the chapel often after witnessing Sylvain’s funeral and then seeing the man come back to life, but _it’s for meditation and meditation only_. And today he has a better excuse. Just a few minutes ago, the Regent handed a little of the mysterious potion to a trusted priestess, and she promised to analyze the content in a few days. It is a church, so no one will suspect what he said to her.

He returned to the family quarters shortly after. Sylvain is reading by a window, but all of his attention is on Alex, who is playing his toys in the nursery. Sitri recently started learning the piano. Because she absolutely hates leaving the room, Sylvain decided to move Byleth and Cecilia’s old piano into the living area so she can practice. The girl practices her scales, wobbly fingers moving slowly.

Speaking of leaving her room, Sylvain worries Sitri is slowly turning into Bernadette, but Felix thinks he’s overthinking because who knows what a three-year-old will become in the distant future. The Regent and Margrave have tried coaxing her out of the family quarters, but all efforts were futile.

However, the exception seems to be Peter something ( _Dimitri? Named to honor the boar?_ Felix isn’t sure) Baldwin. Sitri is never been comfortable around strangers, but today she had quite a lot of fun with that four-year-old, and Lucy can’t stop teasing the Princess for having a cute little boyfriend. (Sylvain is very unhappy about it.)

“Ah, Felix! How was your… Are you alright?” Sylvain lifts his eyes from Alex, a frown replaces the immediate smile when seeing his husband back.

Felix is tired. He thinks about telling him—how Alex found the vial, his entire interaction with the priestess, but…

**_You fucking monster!_ **

“I’m fine,” says Felix.

“Are you sure?”

**_She is only a CHILD!_ **

“Yes. Just tired from work,” Felix pulls off his jacket. He goes over to Sitri, remembering when Byleth just started learning and how awkward their genius professor could be when it came to music. The fond memories bring him a chuckle.

And Glenn. He used to play a piano just like this one.

But Sitri stops playing when he comes closer. “I don’t like being stared at,” the girl says, her hands still on the keys.

“But you were playing nicely, Sitri!” Sylvain chimes in, but he keeps his eyes on Alex. “Isn’t playing music about having other people listen?”

“I don’t play for _other_ people,” Sitri says, about to throw another tantrum. Felix sighs before leaving the girl be. He has fought many tough battles, but no battle is more difficult when it comes to Sitri. She resumes playing once Felix goes away.

The Regent sinks into an armchair next to Sylvain, who is still looking at the nursery. “What’s wrong?” Felix asks, following his gaze.

Sylvain shakes his head, “Just listen.”

“Daddy, I found this pinecone last week,” a pause from Alex. “No, it’s not big enough. Lucas doesn’t like to play with it.” Another pause. “Can you carve me another horse? Sitri will be happy…”

Felix gapes.

“See?” Sylvain says.

“Well… he… He may just miss his parents too much and…”

“Please don’t say anything about imaginary friends again. Nobody wants their parents to be what they imagine hanging out with all the time.”

“He has a different situation, Sylvain—”

“Yeah? I don’t think so. All children should be happy. Oh, I remember your imaginary friend still—”

“Shut up.”

“…a glorious knight—”

“Shut up!”

“With four wings!”

“Sylvain, shut up!”

“Yeah, yeah. Hehe,” Sylvain finally relents but not without a smirk, which earns himself a jab from Felix. “Alright, I’ll stop now, but… I’ve been thinking… Someone else we know had his parents as their imaginary friends, too. Well, maybe not _friends_ but… they talked for many, many, many years.”

Felix blinks.

**_The dead must have their tribute._ **

“Shit,” Felix wipes his forehead.

“Yeah? You do remember that, too, huh?”

“Who doesn’t? When we just found the boar, he totally was… Forget it. Are you sure? Alex and… whoever he is talking to seem to get along.”

“They do seem so, but it runs in his family, doesn’t it?”

Felix takes a sharp inhale. Yes, he knows that. He vaguely remembers some old servants of the royal family mention such a thing. It was always a bit of peculiarity here and there. There have been stories about the more ancient rulers, about Dimitri’s grandfather, Frederick, (the one who absolutely kept Rufus away from the court until old Fred died, and Lambert decided to bring his brother back), but when it comes to Lambert, there was nearly none. Rodrigue avoids talking about it when Felix probed, but from what his old man told him, Felix began to worry that Lambert also had it. Therefore, for Dimitri, Duscur was not the cause; it was the trigger—the trigger of a cursed illness carved into the family bloodline. It was the thing that set Dimitri, teetering on the verge of falling, off on a disastrous journey of no return that kept coming back to him when he was at his worst.

Felix has long questioned what he could’ve done to save Dimitri from the darkness, but in the end, only Byleth partially completed the feat.

And now Felix looks at Alex. His fear is back. But for the blond man merrily chatting and playing toys with his son, he doesn’t get to realize his best friends have been looking at the empty space that he is occupying and where Alex is talking to. He only cares about sharing a moment with his son now.

Alex is fine. Still happy, still energetic, but sometimes sad when he can’t get a hug from Dimitri.

“Can you not hold me?” there are tears in his eyes.

Dimitri feels a string twisting his heart, wrenching it into halves. He gets on his knees, putting his arms around the boy’s body that only feels like air, and stays that way. He can smell warm milk, honey, and a hint of lemon from his son, just as he remembers. “How about that? Can you feel me?” Dimitri is tired. The stay is already getting too long, and his body and soul and every tip of his hair are protesting out of exhaustion.

But he has to hold on. There is no guarantee when he will come back again, and Alex may have to wait a long time.

“No… but…” Alex giggles. “It’s a little warm, Daddy.”

“Okay, then I’ll hold you just a little longer,” Dimitri smiles. “Hey, promise me one thing, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of your sister for us, okay? Sitri can’t see me, but I want her to know that she is well-loved.”

_Dimitri, I think I know why only Alex can see you._ The goddess says.

_Why?_

_Your Crest, Dimitri. Alex has your Crest._

Dimitri doesn’t know how much longer he stayed in Fhirdiad, but when he realizes it, he’s already back in the infirmary, eyes shooting open.

Felix is in their bed again, but this time, he is harassing Byleth, “You’re discharged today. Then you can get back on your feet. Fight me.”

“Are you sure? Didn’t you strain your arm a little bit yesterday?”

“I’m fine now! A little bit of ice will do its work. Fight, me.”

“What’s going on?” Dimitri rubs his right eye, asking groggily. He has expected to get used to time travel, but it seems it either won’t work or his body needs more time for it.

Byleth and Felix turn and look at him at the same time.

“Felix wants more training,” says Byleth, “but actually, I’m curious about your combat style. Would you like to show me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey this is a short chapter, but I hope you guys like it! My friend is attending an Ivy League starting this spring, so I’m busy celebrating with her and helping her move.
> 
> A lot of the quirks Lucas the Blaiddyd has are based on my buddy, such as always sniffing girls’ private parts (and humping me all the time, duh), dragging his bed around to stay near us, eating newspaper, and stealing any fabrics (jackets, blankets, towels…) he could see.
> 
> Expect some sexy moments from past Dimileth in the next update (not explicit). The next two or three chapters should be plot/action intensive since we’ve built up enough.
> 
> Also about smut, I don’t think I’ll write any explicit stuff that doesn’t serve the plot. However, if I ever decide to indulge myself, I’ll post them as stand-alone pieces in the collection.


	17. Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimileth fluff. Platonic Dilileth (is this a thing??) fluff.  
> The Prince has to solve a big problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: mild sexual content that definitely isn’t enough to bump up the rating. Just in case anyone doesn’t want to read that part, I’ve marked the section with ~~~~~ and ended with two lines of ~~~~~. Also, starting next week, I will move most of the content warning to the end notes (violence, blood, etc.), but if there is anything sexual, I’ll say it here.
> 
> This chapter is so hard to write.
> 
> And thanks to everyone who encouraged me to finish CF. As you can see in this chapter, it has given me a lot of inspiration though the whole playthrough was painful.
> 
> You’ll encounter my terrible attempt at Greek in this chapter. I studied Classics ages ago and forgot everything. Not sure if I’ve got the gender correct and too lazy to look up.

_“I almost wanted to stab myself watching that mock battle,” says Byleth, though her face shows nothing at all. The classroom falls silent._

_The Blue Lions were victorious, singing all the way back to the academy, which annoyed Lorenz very much. All of their grins freeze (all but Felix who only huffs since the end of the battle), suddenly growing uneasy. They were expecting praises. Maybe a night out in town for food. Or at least a grand meal at the dining hall, celebrating together._

_To better understand where their students are at, Byleth and the two other professors decided to not participate in the battle to observe each of the students. The new professor only nodded her approval when the Lions claimed their victory. Then she was quiet on the road back, allowing them some time to laugh and pat on each other’s shoulders and banter and joke, but when they got back to the classroom with the heavy door shut behind, Byleth finally commented on their performance._

_“But… we won, didn’t we?” says Ingrid._

_“We have Lorenz to thank for that,” Byleth hums, turning around to draw a rough map. Nobody says a word, and all of the sound filling the room is chalk hitting the chalkboard, occasional scraping, and the pause in lines and lines. She has drawn a crown to represent Dimitri, a big man as Dedue, a wing as Ingrid, flame as Sylvain, leaf as Ashe, candy as Mercedes, and a musical note as Annette._

_“So, we were down in the south when Claude dispatched Ignatz to intercept Felix, who Dimitri sent to take care of Dorothea. Then Dimitri charges at Claude with Dedue following him—" Byleth puts down arrows to mark everyone’s movement before realizing she forgot about Felix’s symbol. After pausing for a second, she quickly draws a cat for Felix._

_“What the fuck?!” Felix protests in everyone’s chuckle. Byleth totally ignores him._

_“Felix engaged Dorothea immediately, but he didn’t wait for Ashe, who was alone and exposed because Ingrid and Sylvain were trying to fence off Lorenz. Ignatz took the opportunity and took down our archer,” Byleth wipes the leaf clean. “And as mages and healers have a very limited range of movement, Annette and Mercedes were very behind. In order to shield them, Dimitri sent Sylvain to our two magic users, but Sylvain was too far away from the woods, where Annette and Mercedes were in—under Dimitri’s order—so he had to make a huge loop to get back, while our two magic users were stuck in the forest, unable to move and always having the danger of getting in Ignatz’s range._

_“Rhe woods provided Annette and Mercedes protection,” Dimitri retorts._

_“Yes, but they are unable to do anything. Annette can’t attack when we have Hilda throwing her axe at Dedue, who is getting injured and Mercedes could’ve healed him—however, this should not be that of a problem later on when Mercedes can use Physic at ease… Professor Manuela told me you were still learning. Back to the battle,” Byleth stops her tangent, knocking on the chalkboard. “And that’s the tradeoff here. Yes, our two magic users would be unharmed when you hid them in the woods, but they wouldn’t be able to help anyone of you if you were in trouble. And now, Felix took down Dorothea, and Dimitri realized Annette and Mercedes became Ignatz’s easy target…”_

_“It would be hard for him to aim when we are in the woods, right?” Annette asks, hesitantly._

_“Ignatz shot a branch he wanted to paint 150 meters away from the target the other day. It was still intact,” says Byleth. “And now at this point, Felix is too far away from the woods. If Lorenz had listened to Claude and cooperated with Ignatz, we would have lost all of our magic users right here. That early into the battle, it would be the same as losing your Queen in the beginning of a chess game.” She draws a circle on the girls. “However, thanks to Lorenz’s ego, he tried to compete with Ignatz and gave Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid the opportunity to get back and take them down.”_

_A long silence._

_“Wow,” Sylvain whistles. “I should probably buy Lorenz a drink.”_

_“Remember,” Byleth continues when everyone looks like having absorbed the information. “It is always about trade-offs. If we decided to sacrifice Annette and Mercedes, getting Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix around Claude instead of dispersing our force, we may still have a chance to take down the Black Eagles after clearing the Deer. However, it would be a bit gamble, without any healer or mage to take care of Raphael, who was literally a wall, Caspar, and finally, Edelgard, who all had high defense while low in resistance. Not to mention Dedue was already very injured. Or, in a real-life situation, we retreat to save everyone. Claude did just so, refraining from going offense anymore and only holding his ground because a retreat was not an option in the mock battle.”_

_Byleth turns to Dimitri. The Prince swallows under her intense gaze, never feeling so nervous before. “Dimitri, you like to charge ahead.”_

_“Professor, I refuse to sit back and watch my countrymen fight.”_

_“I figured,” Byleth nods. Dimitri waits for her to chide, to admonish, to say this is such a terrible strategy for an army leader, however—“I guess every leader is different, aren’t they? Then I shall accommodate our training. Therefore…” the new professor hands out a piece of sheet to everyone. “Our individual training plan.”_

_Dimitri can’t even remember how many times Gilbert scolded him for such. The Prince feels immensely grateful, but then he takes a look at his before frowning: Harpstring Moon—faith and lance. “Professor, I’m pretty sure you gave us the wrong ones. Perhaps this is for Mercedes?”_

_“No. As you can see, everyone is going to learn some basic healing,” she looks at Dimitri, a faint smile forming at the corner of her mouth. “If you are going to protect your people at the frontline, Your Highness, then you must learn to heal them as well.”_

_Dimitri’s heart stops. Something rises in his chest, clogging up his throat as if all emotions are going to erupt. He has never felt this way before, like he is going to fly, head pounding by every pulse and pump from his arteries to his heart to his lungs and then…_

“You are distracted, Dimitri,” the green-haired boy hits Dimitri’s side with a swipe of his wooden sword.

“My—my apologies,” Dimitri gasps, not expecting the hit. There are at least ten people, including his friends—Felix looks quite grumpy that he doesn’t get to train with Byleth all morning—and several Knights of Seiros, a constant reminder of why he didn’t want to join the spar in the first place.

“Don’t forget you’re a thirteen-year-old,” says the goddess teasingly. “And don’t break that wooden sword of yours. It’ll be an embarrassing defeat.”

_But Sothis, how did I fight when I was this young?_

Sothis thinks for a bit while Dimitri tries to throw an impatient, clumsy swing of his training sword, but his muscle memory comes in mid-way, and that somehow makes Byleth frown though he says nothing.

“I don’t know. Try to look stupid then,” says the goddess after a minute of contemplation. That is probably the most useless advice Dimitri has ever received.

“Dimitri!” Byleth notices his drifting mind again, throwing an attack without hesitation, and Dimitri’s body reacts on its own. He doesn’t get to realize he has used a Windsweep to counter, drawing it back midway when the Prince’s brain starts functioning again, and Sothis already has her face in both hands.

_Please use a Pulse, Sothis._

“No. Nobody has noticed anything yet.”

_Please._

But the incomplete Windsweep only leaves an opening on Dimitri’s left which Byleth immediately takes advantage of, and he pins the Prince to the ground. Dust and sand are everywhere in the air, and yet Dimitri can only see the pair of green eyes gazing at him, a million unanswered questions hidden behind the irises.

_He swallows. Byleth has her knee on his stomach, a hand on Dimitri’s chest, sword at his throat. It only lasted one or two seconds, but Dimitri feels an eternity. He can drown—willingly drown—in her presence, basking in her warmth. And the small hands, Dimitri thinks. He wants to touch it, to feel her smooth skin and her wrist and…_

_Goddess, what am I thinking? Dimitri suddenly grows ashamed of his thoughts. His flushed face turns pale the moment he feels the hardness between his legs._

_Byleth seems to notice nothing and lets him go a second later, and Dimitri takes the opportunity to get water, slouching to carefully hide his tent. He can’t imagine having anyone, especially Byleth and Felix, to see his physical reaction to a simple spar._

_“Good job, Dimitri. Your stance is very solid, but the forms are still rigid. However, that comes with practice. The moves you learned work well in regulated tournaments. You’ll learn how to fight in actual combat.”_

_“Than—Thank you, professor,” Dimitri mutters. Somehow, he can only half-register what she says because of his embarrassing state of condition, and his sheepish response earns an eye-roll and a huff from Felix. He says something along the line of “what a pathetic creature.” Sylvain whistles, taking in Dimitri’s reaction around the professor._

_Goddess, he has to do something with **it** soon or Dimitri is sure he will explode._

Dimitri shamefully remembers how he made a terrible excuse to leave the Lions shortly after Byleth announced dismissal. He didn’t even care about missing lunch, locking himself in his room to take care of his body first. He wondered what was happening to him when all that came into his head was Byleth—her face, her hand, and the warmth of her breaths.

~~~~~

_Dimitri pants. He’s almost never touched himself except the one or two occasions simply out of curiosity. They were nothing more than explorations under the blanket of his soft, luxurious royal bed, a few muffled grunts, and in the end, a groan that the Prince could be easily suppressed into his chest. He did nothing wrong, but every time after the pleasure came down, Dimitri only felt shame. After running into Rufus on top of a maid with an almost animalistic manner, Dimitri could no longer think of bodily pleasure as anything near a healthy need._

_But this time, Dimitri, unfortunately, finds himself seeing white. His toes curl from the movement of his hand, head throwing back, failing to strangle a moan that even surprises himself. Thank the goddess that everyone on the second floor is away in the dining hall._

_Dimitri can’t help but repeat the professor’s name like a prayer, picturing her hand on his body. Maybe she will praise him for how good he is doing as she did after the training session. Maybe she will—_

_“Goddess—” Dimitri whimpers. At the peak of his ecstasy, he can hear music from heaven, wondering why Byleth has such power over his mind and body._

~~~~~

~~~~~

The training sword splinters in his tightened fist. “SorryIhavetogoseeyoulater.” Dimitri scrambles to get himself up, not caring about the dirt on his back or nearly throwing Byleth off to the ground, sprinting towards the exit. He doesn’t hear the goddess cackling behind him.

Dimitri later finds himself back in his guest room, pathetically splashing water over his flushed face, but when he raises to look at him in the mirror, he sees blood smudged everywhere across his face. The water in the basin has been tainted red, ribbons of blood waving under water. Confused, he finally feels warmth in his right palm. There are wounds from the training lance that he didn’t even notice. The Prince turns around, finding blood drops on the floor.

Someone knocks thrice on his door. “Dimitri?”

It’s Byleth.

“Bel—prof—Byleth, I’m fine!” _Why does he have to come? Does he not realize why he shouldn’t be around me?_

“I haven’t even asked anything yet,” says Byleth, voice muffled by the door. “I see blood on the floor. Do you need help?”

_No, because you already taught me the Heal spell_ leaves unsaid, and the Prince waves the simple faith magic over his right palm. However, he feels a sudden pain from the wounded hand, failing to swallow a yelp that Byleth can clearly hear. Dimitri realizes in the heat of the moment, he clearly forgot to clean the wound first.

“Alright, I’m coming in,” the older teen says and opens the door with his elbow, both hands carrying a box of medical supplies. Somehow, Lucas the puppy follows in, almost tripping Byleth for he has great interests in walking by his side. Then Byleth sees the state of Dimitri’s hand, “Dimitri, you do know a wound like so should be cleaned out first before using a Heal, don’t you?” He drops the supplies on the table, opening to get a tweezer and rubbing alcohol.

“I… yes, just… sorry,” _about totally forgetting to apply what I learned from your class and now I’ve made myself an idiot and you have to help me treat this stupid wound that was caused only by my depravity and ignorance and_ —

“Wow, Dimitri, but please stop your internal monologue at once if you’re not trying to kill me with a headache,” says Sothis.

_Can you actually die from a headache?_

The goddess probably says something quite indignantly, but Dimitri doesn’t get to hear her at all because Byleth has held his hand, taking out tiny wood splinters piece by piece. His body goes rigid, unable to conjure any thoughts when the other boy is tending his wounds.

And finally, Byleth is the first to break the silence, “Where did you learn Windsweep?”

_Divine Pulse, please._

“You’re on your own,” Sothis disappears into Dimitri’s head, her voice on a strange edge of amusement and previous anger.

Dimitri almost curses out loud, but Byleth’s gentle hands on his almost stop his heart.

“I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” what can Dimitri say? You taught me in our past life? He has wished the Byleth sitting in front of him to be less experienced or skilled than their past, considering how much younger he is right now. Perhaps Jeralt has yet to teach him Windsweep. However, Dimitri knew it was only untrue. When Byleth tried to see the blonde’s style, Dimitri got a sense of his skills as well, and it terrifies the Prince. They may have not used full strength during the spar since the older teen was just discharged, but everything Byleth demonstrated was more than a skilled warrior. There is a resemblance of the Byleth in the past world and yet more, something that Dimitri can’t really discern.

“Dimitri,” Byleth stops what he is doing, raising his head to meet Dimitri’s gaze. “I recognize my father’s iconic move when I see it, let alone something I learned when I was ten.”

“…” Dimitri averts his eyes. “I… I don’t want to lie to you, but I can’t tell you, either. I’m sorry.”

Byleth tilts his head before resuming the healing, “Alright. Hm, it’s just strange.”

“Pardon?”

“When you fought me, you clearly had solid footwork. The rhythm you had suggested you were more than coordinated, and you knew how to use your entire body instead of just limbs. Yet when you swung the sword, you suddenly stopped the coordination of your upper and lower body abruptly, as if trying to make yourself look as inexperienced as possible. And I saw the way you fought in the forest,” He finally waved a Heal spell. A familiar, almost strangely _intimate_ feeling of warmth washes over him. “Why are you trying to hide your skills, Dimitri?”

Dimitri swallows.

_“Alexandre, please, do not hide anything from me ever again.”_

His wife’s ( _fiancée_ , at the time) voice echoes in his head again. It was after an assassination attempt. Some nobles wanted the King dead, and Dimitri knew all along. However, he kept it a secret from Byleth, who was away in Garreg Mach, carrying her duties as the Archbishop. The last thing he wanted was to worry her.

And yet it still happened. Dimitri was poisoned and woke up three days later. Dedue looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Sylvain dragged Felix out of the room in case he smothered the King back to unconsciousness. Byleth cried, and it broke his heart.

Throughout their journey, Byleth had come to emote more. She would smile when she was happy; she would cry when sad. Though the younger Byleth in front of Dimitri has a face without any emotions, the Prince knows somewhere deep in Byleth’s heart, a secret, dormant part full of emotions is yet to awake. And that doesn’t mean Byleth doesn’t feel any hurt.

“Well, maybe he isn’t hurt right now. Whatever happened is indeed creepy,” says the goddess.

_Didn’t you say I was on my own? Why are you out again?_

“Rude, Blaiddyd!”

“I… Byleth, I want you to know what I did… was not out of any distrust of you. That would be the last thing I’d ever do. The reason is…” Dimitri pauses, trying to find what to say without being dishonest or revealing too much. “I cannot risk anything that could bring consequence.”

Byleth looks into his eyes, and then nods, “I guess being the heir to the Kingdom means a lot of danger.” He turns around to put back the medical supplies but stops midway, turning back to look at Dimitri. “But will you tell me later, when the time is right?”

“Of course,” Dimitri says.

“To think… it’s so strange,” Byleth says, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“What is, bel—Byleth?”

“What you told me just now, what I saw, and what you said the night you were drunk.”

Sothis starts laughing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dimitri chokes, eyes wide. “What exactly did I say?”

“You…”

“Oh, there you are kiddo!” Jeralt opens the door with a slam. “I brought you clothes, and the magical potion stuff you asked for, and…” he pauses when realizing Byleth is not alone and seeing the room is full of objects that belong to the royal family. “ _Manuela assigned you to the **princeling’** s room?!_”

“Dimitri and Felix’s,” Byleth tilts his head, pointing at the two beds in the room. He does not understand why Jeralt is so upset. However, Dimitri is about to die under Jeralt’s murderous glare.

“Right, so if Rodrigue’s brat is sleeping in that bed, where are you going to sleep?”

“In Dimitri’s, of course. Manuela put me there so I can share body heat with him.”

“ ** _So_** **_you can WHAT?!”_**

\-------

They spend the afternoon trying to recreate the “blood flow” potion (“It’s concoction _haimatos dynamikes_ ,” Byleth keeps correcting them) Dimitri read about. While Byleth tries to focus, Dimitri’s childhood friends (Sylvain, to be precise) keeps being annoying—somehow, he can make everything the book mentions into a sexual joke, and Felix, who finally knows about what sex is from the redhead, leaves the room furiously. Ingrid then gets disgusted by the Gautier heir’s constant teasing and throws a bunch of herbs at his face, which Byleth finally has enough, because those herbs are one of the main ingredients and they are throwing it like javelins, and kicks everyone but Dimitri out of the room.

After hours of distilling and concentrating, Byleth gets a tiny vial of clear red liquid, which Dimitri and Felix can only stare at with wide eyes.

“Let’s test it out,” Felix announces, standing up from the bed. “I’ll go find Sylvain.”

“No, Felix! We’re not even sure if this is safe!” Dimitri pulls him back.

“Why? Byleth checked with the book. It has all the right qualities. If you’re not planning to try it, why bother making it in the first place?” the raven-haired boy scoffs.

“The book says nothing about side effects. What if it sent Sylvain into a laughing fit and… a mood of streaking for the world to see?” Byleth says with absolutely nothing on his face, voice all serious. Dimitri tries very, very hard not to snort.

Felix huffs. “Well, then… he probably deserves it,” though he says so, the boy finally relents. Dimitri thinks he hears Felix mumbles something along the line of “then the girls would stay away from him.”

“What did they use it for?” Felix asks.

“Well… for surgery, the patients would sleep until the effect came down, and they wouldn’t lose much blood. Some prisoners… the rich ones used it to not lose too much blood and fake death. Of course, it wouldn’t work if the sentence was decapitation and… other terrible things,” Dimitri flips to the page he bookmarked. “Says Owens.”

Felix and Byleth nod, the latter unable to stifle a yawn. It is already past midnight.

“I’m terribly sorry, Byleth. I shouldn’t have kept you up this late,” Dimitri says and stands up, gesturing Byleth to get in bed.

But Felix stands up, too, pushing the other single bed over to Dimitri’s. He quickly changes into his baby blue pajamas and pushes Dimitri down in bed at the same time. “Felix—” Dimitri is confused, “what are you doing?”

Felix and Byleth sandwich him in between, two blankets thrown over them. To think it’s August… There is also a gap between the two mattresses where Dimitri lies, and it is very uncomfortable.

“Well, Byleth needs body heat sharing, then I’m providing more.”

“Felix, it’s the middle of summer—”

“You don’t care about being too warm with Byleth, but you hate being around me?” Felix narrows his eyes.

“My, my, the stubborn Fraldarius boy!” Sothis laughs and Dimitri totally ignores her.

“No… just… let’s sleep,” Dimitri resists the urge to sigh. It is going to be a very, very sweaty night.

\-------

“Dimitri, Dimitri, wake up.”

Dimitri’s eyes flutter open, trying to blink away the dizziness from the sleep. He wakes up flashes of lightning followed by the rumbling thunder as if the goddess is trying to split the sky into a million pieces. He is sweaty and overheated, sleep gown uncomfortably sticking to his skin.

The Prince blinks and blinks, finally recognizing the young man standing next to his bed, beckoning. Glenn. Happy, healthy, both arms intact. “G…Glenn? Why are you here?”

The Fraldarius heir rolls his eyes, so typical him, “Well, Your Highness, aren’t you supposed to get up and get ready for my knighting ceremony? I am to become _your knight_ after all.”

_What?_

Dimitri rubs his eyes, realizing Felix and Byleth aren’t anywhere nearby. He looks around and finds himself in his childhood bedroom in Fhirdiad. He remembers this morning—that fateful day that dooms Glenn Aeacus Fraldarius to a tragedy in two lifetimes.

“C’mon, Lil Mitri. Let’s get dressed,” says Glenn, pulling Dimitri out of bed.

But Dimitri stops him, a hand clutching tightly to his waist, “Don’t, Glenn.”

“Don’t what?” he grins. “Or do you want your mommy dearest to dress you?”

Dimitri isn’t in the mood of joking, “Don’t be my knight, Glenn. You will die.”

Glenn lets go of the Prince, head tilting to the side. He looks confused, but a second later, he flashes a bright smile, “Then I will happily die for you, my lion.”

The world swirls back to darkness. Dimitri wakes up again to Byleth screaming in her dream, thrashing and crying, hands clutching at their blanket.

“Ah! No!” Byleth’s screams almost muffle the thunderstorm of Fhirdiad summer, echoing in their luxurious royal quarters. Dimitri blinks, realizing it’s another dream, and scoots over to hold Byleth in his arms tightly, “Byleth, Byleth, wake up.”

“No—no!” Byleth can’t hear him, too trapped in the deep slumber and nightmare. So Dimitri keeps her in his embrace, whispering and kissing her tears away until she finally wakes up in a tremble. He remembers that night. It usually was Byleth who comforted him from a nightmare, and that night was the only time Dimitri did it for her.

Before Dimitri can say anything, Byleth throws her arms around Dimitri, almost able to suffocate him. “What’s wrong, beloved?” Dimitri shifts so they can be more comfortable under the blanket.

Byleth shakes her head. “It’s alright. It’s just a nightmare,” Dimitri smiles.

“But it felt so real, almost like… a past life,” Byleth squeezes her eyes shut, her clutch to his body tighter. Dimitri has never seen her so scared. What did she dream about?

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks.

Byleth freezes, all blood leaving her face. After what seems to be an eternity, Dimitri hears her say, “I killed you, at Tailtean.”

A flash of lightning lighting up the sky, leaving looming shadows in the room. Dimitri laughs, “I’m glad it’s you, beloved, as you have already taken my heart.”

Dimitri wakes up for the third time, and this time for real. He is panting. Felix looks worried, and it seems Byleth and another person in the room, Rowan, have been trying to wake him up.

“Yes, Sir Rowan?” the Prince asks, still disoriented.

Rowan is very, very pale, “Your Highness. Someone tried to assassinate Lady Rhea, and they’ve captured Lord Christophe.”

\-------

Why is this happening again? Dimitri doesn’t know. He can hear the ghosts following him, their incessant chatter and mocking almost muting the thunderstorm, leaving nothing but the painful voices from the dead. They sound disturbingly happy as if waiting for a new member’s arrival. Patricia and Lambert are laughing. The knights and whoever died for him in Duscur are singing songs only known to them. Their voices are supposed to be joyful, but sound and sound all intertwine together, creating nothing but a cacophony of dread and sickness in the Prince’s head.

“Another person to the party,” says Glenn, lazily leaning on the shoulder of a knight who only has half a skull left.

_Please, Glenn. I need to think._

“Well, if Rhea wants someone dead, can you even try to save them? To think you allowed yourself to be _drunk_ when Christophe went to her… How amusing.”

The goddess is quiet, though Dimitri isn’t sure if she is still asleep or he can’t hear her among all of the voices.

Though people fight over everything, from arguing about the shape of the Earth to killing each other for believing in different ways the goddess command humans to die for her, at least according to the Church scriptures, everyone would probably agree on one thing: it requires immense courage to walk into Rhea’s audience hall when the Archbishop is furious. However, Dimitri feels nothing—no fear, no trepidation, just tiredness, only a blank state of exhaustion.

Only a handful of people are allowed in. Rodrigue is already there. A few Faerghus lords who happen to be in Garreg Mach are summoned, too. Cassandra is pleading with Rhea but for what, Dimitri can’t register. He assumes it’s for Christophe.

Christophe is forced to stay kneeling on the ground with a few other people Dimitri doesn’t know.

“Wow, Mitri. Can’t you see they’re in the garb of the Western Church?”

_Western Church, right. Again._

From what people are saying, Dimitri, in his worst state of mind, still manages to piece together what happened tonight. A priest from the Western Church appeared in Rhea’s quarters. The Archbishop killed him and alarmed the guards. All other priests, monks, and nuns from the West visiting Garreg Mach were all captured, regardless of their involvement in the assassination. For his sympathy for the Western Church and his “talk” with Rhea two days ago, Christophe was also brought to the Archbishop. He is rather calm, and Dimitri wonders if the Gaspard heir truly thinks he can leave unscathed because he didn’t try to kill Rhea—at least the Prince believes someone as honest as Christophe would never harm anybody.

“Lady Rhea, I suggest that we should kill these heathens here and now in case they’ve been plotting for more,” a Faerghus lord says. Dimitri finds his voice rather familiar and turns to look at him. Viscount—no, Lord Kleiman now, speaks with his eyes low, an image of a submissive child in front of the goddess.

“I object,” Dimitri rubs the back of his neck, trying to ignore the voices of the dead. “We need a trial before anyone is condemned.” Rodrigue sends him a glance, trying to stop him from speaking more, but Dimitri pays him no heed.

All eyes turn to the Prince, and Rhea frowns. “My child, these heathens defaced the halls of the goddess. Do you think they don’t deserve death?”

“We still don’t know who was involved. If they did attempt your life, then, by all means, Lady Rhea, we should punish them. However, we must find out exactly what happened first.”

Rodrigue chimes in, “Lady—"

But the Archbishop doesn’t give him an opportunity to deescalate the situation. “The priest from the Western Church broke into my room with a sword to my throat. Is that not enough?”

“What about the men and women you captured? Were they truly involved?” _Or are you only using this incident as an excuse to cleanse the Western Church?_ Of course, in no situation, Dimitri would be stupid enough to say that out loud. “If we killed them now, I fear it would instigate hatred from the West, and it would only harm the Church, Lady Rhea.”

“Is that a threat, Your Highness?” Kleiman narrows his eyes.

Dimitri doesn’t even have the energy to feel offended, “Of course not, Lord Kleiman. It was only some advice from a pious child of the goddess, trying to protect the Church. I am quite surprised, my lord, that after years of not donating or even visiting the Church, you appeared in Garreg Mach all of a sudden, right at the time of this horrendous incident, and accused me of threatening the Church.” Dimitri retorts. He ignores how shocked everyone in the room is, considering a teenage boy known to be soft and meek suddenly challenges a lord and the _Archbishop_ , not to mention the language he uses belongs to a calculated politician.

However, Dimitri is only a _prince_ , an heir to the Kingdom with no real power. He ranks lower than the Archbishop, so he can only influence the outcome. Everyone finally turns to Rhea, waiting for her decision.

The Archbishop smiles, disturbing in the night of a thunderstorm. Her voice retrieves the tranquility, “My lords, I shall speak with Prince Dimitri in private. Please excuse us.”

Dimitri finally shakes awake from the ghosts and voices, alarmed by the initiation. He thinks and nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Rhea and Dima negotiate. Sylvix in the past timeline have a serious problem.
> 
> I picked up Sims 4 again recently and got addicted to building lol.


	18. The Crestless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re a descendant of the Ten Elites and don’t have a Crest, life isn’t going to be easy for you, especially when you’re second in line to the throne. However, Sitri is lucky that she is surrounded by people who care about her.  
> Felix now has to handle a very, very serious matter.  
> And Dimitri deals with Rhea, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Readership dropped a lot recently, so I’m wondering if you have any suggestions to make in case you find the story not as interesting anymore. I enjoy writing this piece very much, but I want to make sure you’re having fun reading, too.
> 
> And I created a Cornelia character in the Sims 4 this week lol ([see pics here](https://twitter.com/wrcdiane/status/1353168653852794881?s=20)). Her traits are genius, evil, and proper (I struggled with the last one, but I decided to settle on that hehe). She aspires to be a criminal mastermind, and I already set her reputation as atrocious.
> 
> See end notes for content warning.

The first play date (Felix really hates such a name) Mercedes initiated has really brightened up Sitri. The Regent still remembers the sadness on Sylvain’s face when Sitri refused to let Peter go, and such a memory sends a sharp pang to his chest because years ago, Felix would cry for hours before finally parting with Dimitri.

_Stupid_. Felix growls at his own thought, putting down the quill. That was twenty years ago, and yet it still haunts him whenever he tries to focus and only wants to read some Ailell damned documents.

Children are laughing in the garden, their laughter finally diverting the Regent’s attention from work. He should probably go check on Alex and Sitri, just in case Sylvain _the idiot_ is hiding in the bushes again. To the Margrave, it matters not that the twins have been hanging out with the orphans and noble children for months now, even though they’ve grown a bond and friendship because Sylvain always worries about anyone bullying Alex or Sitri (especially the latter).

And again, Felix finds Sylvain in a rose bush. The white blossoms reminding him of the summers he spent at Garreg Mach.

“Of all the places, you selected somewhere with all the prickles,” Felix shakes his head in disbelief.

“Shhh,” Sylvain gestures to dismiss his husband, eyes on Sitri. “The noble kids came only for Alex. Who knows what they’ll do to Sitri?”

Felix rolls his eyes, “Sitri is doing _fine_!” He points at the girl, who is running around in the garden, chased by a giggling Peter and an over-excited Lucas. “And it’s… kind of cute.”

“Cute? **_Cute?_** ” Sylvain almost raises his voice but lowers just in time before anyone notices them. “You know what the noble boys are after! She is a Blaiddyd, second in line to the throne, the twin sister of the future King—”

“Like a five-year-old knows anything about that,” Felix sighs. He is pretty sure that is not how it works because all the noble mothers grab their children and _shun_ Sitri as if she will start a plague. The Baldwins are the only exception.

But Sitri looks so happy now. Ever since Dimitri and Byleth passed, Felix only remembers seeing her quiet as if a thousand emotions are going through her head, but a child shouldn’t have that many complicated thoughts. “Life should be simple for children, so maybe this is the most ideal…”

Well, Felix probably should’ve kept that thought to himself because the next second, Sitri trips on a stone and falls face down. Sylvain is halfway out of the bush, ready to rescue Sitri when Felix pulls him back. “It is alright! Our roughhousing was worse than that!” he says.

Alex immediately drops the toy lance and runs towards her, leaving all of his noble playmates pout. Peter tries to help Sitri up, but he is too small to support another toddler’s weight, and a blond boy from the orphanage does the same—if Felix remembers correctly, _Edgar_ —helps Sitri get up. _Right, he requested to visit Dimitri and Byleth’s grave earlier this year, didn’t he?_ Somehow Edgar has been happily watching them play as if staying by the side is making him content enough.

However, Sitri refuses their help, getting up on her own.

“See?” Felix says to Sylvain, who finally relents.

However, they didn’t expect Lady Baldwin, Peter’s mother, would come to Sitri’s side, “Poor dear, are you hurt anywhere?” she checks her chafed knees before casting a Heal spell.

“Thank you, Lady Baldwin,” says Sitri, cheeks red from the running. Her braids have come loose, a few leaves stuck in the hair.

Aemilia Tatiana Baldwin gives her a soft motherly smile, “Your Highness, do you mind if I braid your hair?”

Felix panics. Sitri is going to have a tantrum for anyone daring to touch her hair. However, Sylvain already bolts out to the lawn, dragging Felix with him.

And yet Sitri smiles brightly, “Yes, please!”

The Regent and the Margrave gape. They watch Tatiana gently combs through Sitri’s hair with her fingers, crossing and adding more strands into the braid, and then she takes off some of her own hairpins, securing the young Princess’s hair into an up-do.

“Looking good, Your Highness,” Tatiana smiles, turning to see Felix and Sylvain standing not far away. “Oh, Your Grace, my lord.”

The mothers and noble children and orphans all turn and greet the Regent. Felix hates the attention, but he keeps reminding himself that this is all for the twins, so he even nods back ever so slightly, his movement stiff and somewhat awkward.

Sylvain turns to Tatiana and kisses her hand, “My lady, thank you for taking care of Sitr—er, Princess Sitri.” He gives her a cheerful smile, though Felix can definitely see hints of, well, _anxiety_ whenever he sees Sitri and Peter together.

“Any mother would do the same, Margrave Gautier,” Tatiana says. _That is totally untrue_ , Felix almost blurts out because none of the other noble ladies bothered to do anything.

Tatiana returns to her previous spot, resuming her handkerchief embroidering. She is quiet, never interested in the gossips other mothers are into, and Felix remembers she has publicly defended Sitri from a few nobles’ shit-talking, which inevitably isolated House Baldwin from the rest of the Fódlan nobility. Tatiana’s husband, Lord Baldwin, served directly under Dimitri during the war, and that is probably the only thing that prevents the nobles from kicking the Baldwins out of their society completely.

House Baldwin, known for their tulips, had been in a financial crisis after the market crashed during the war. In recent years, they got better, and nobody dared to sabotage them because of King Dimitri and Lord Baldwin’s relationship as King and general, but it became a different story after Dimitri died.

When Mercedes and Flayn take the orphans back to the castle church they stay at dusk, the noble mothers are bringing their children home. Alex is ready for more snacks in the castle, but again, Sitri is sad that Peter is leaving. Tears are shed. Hugs are shared. The adults have to separate the two kids in the end.

“Peter, didn’t you bring something for Princess Sitri?” Tatiana says, voice gentle.

The boy flushes like a tomato before finally taking something out from his mother’s picnic basket. It is a garland of white roses. From its degree of falling-apart-ness, it appears that Peter managed to weave it himself. (Felix can see in his periphery that Sylvain is going to die from a heart attack.)

Sitri smiles, brighter than any time after her parents’ funeral. She puts on the garland and swiftly leaves a kiss on Peter’s cheek. “I’ll make you something nicer when you visit tomorrow,” she says and runs back to the castle.

Tomorrow. Alex and Sitri’s fourth birthday.

Felix turns to get back in, but after a few strides, he realizes a certain redhead is not by his side. The Regent turns to find Sylvain entirely petrified into a statue, mouth agape, staring in the direction where the Baldwins left.

\-------

After they get in bed that night, Felix wonders if Sitri and Peter understand what a garland of white roses mean—probably not, because of how young they are. Sometimes, he would sit by the window, watching them play in the garden. Maybe growing older has somehow made him reminiscent, but this place was where he and Dimitri used to play. Where Sylvain, Ingrid, and the two of them would play knight games. Where Glenn would check up on them, making sure nobody was going too wild.

Maybe Sitri will have the same friendship Felix, Sylvain, Dimitri, and Ingrid shared growing up, and maybe it will be something lifelong. Maybe that friendship will change and grow into something more, who knows?

The Regent often allows the two children to play in his office while he gets some work done. Usually, it ends up with Felix rescuing a few documents or a sword from one of the kids’ hands, but he never admits their voice helps keep him relaxed.

_Shit. Didn’t my old man use to do that as well?_

Felix silently groans and buries his head under the blanket.

“Can’t sleep, either?” he hears Sylvain ask.

Felix emerges from under the comforter, “No. Too many thoughts.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“Please don’t tell me you are still thinking about that boy.”

The silence from the other side of the bed only confirms it. Felix snorts.

“Alright, alright! I know I can get paranoid often when it comes to Sitri. I just… Alex seems fine except, um, sometimes talking to his dead father—”

“It only occurred once or twice, and that was months ago,” Felix refuses to think a little child can be haunted by the dead like his father used to be.

“Who knows if he will… Never mind, that’s not the point. Sitri was always the brave kid when Dimitri was around. Alex just hid behind her all the time, but now… it’s the exact opposite. I just can’t… fail Dimitri, you know? I’m too scared if I don’t do enough, I’ll end up a shitty father like mine.”

Felix doesn’t know what to say, so he only listens.

“Goddess, they are turning four. You remember how small they were when we just took them in? Just… Dimitri and Byleth won’t be there to see how much they’ve grown anymore.”

This is something Felix refuses— _avoids_ —to think about. He inhales sharply, turning to his side, and brings Sylvain closer to his chest. “We won’t let anything happen to them.”

“Together?” Sylvain kisses his forehead.

Felix pauses. He can’t. There is just something about Sitri that he can’t tell Sylvain, not after how he killed his father in that… heated moment that somehow got reverted. A miracle like so will not repeat itself.

“Together,” Felix lies.

Sylvain grins, holding Felix tight, “I just hope my father won’t show up again next week. That whole month was terrible enough.”

\-------

Your Grace,

I have to apologize for the delay on my part. The potion you gave me is something out of the ordinary, so I had to visit Garreg Mach since their library collections included a vast variety of books, manuscripts, and documents on herbology and potion.

Now, I can say with confidence that this is the Holy Hyssop, a concoction popular among the noble houses about 800 years ago. From my research, nobles around that time would force their daughters to consume it for five years starting from a very young age. The girls will menstruate much earlier and depending on how young they started on the medicine (the earliest record was 2 years old from the Hresvelg family), these girls had a 37% to 52% of chance to bear children with Crest—much, much higher than the usual occurrence of Crest bearing children the nature sets. The Church tried to stop the practice, but due to its popularity, they faced major opposition from the nobles and failed after many attempts.

The said Hresvelg Princess, Aliana von Hresvelg, took a husband when she was eight, and her son (conceived a year later) was Emperor Ionius II.

Clearly, it was a way for the noble houses to secure a grandchild with Crest in the absence of a “qualified heir” among the second generation. And yet later, they took the Holy Hyssop to the extreme that many Crest-bearers started giving their wives this potion, who may or may not possess a Crest, to further increase the possibility of conceiving a child with Major Crest.

In terms of effectiveness, records show that most of the time, it worked well. However, the potion only prepares the girls for sexual maturity, so their bodies remain too young for carrying children. Therefore, the maternal mortality rate spiked to a terrifying 66%, even higher than commoners who had little access to health services, that the Church of Seiros finally managed to ban the potion.

I wonder where the giver obtained this concoction since even I, as a priestess of the Church, needed several of the highest-ranking clerics’ permission—including the Archbishop’s—to get access to the documents, in which the recipe has been purposefully erased so that no one would ever recreate the Holy Hyssop again.

Your Grace asked me to keep our investigation a secret, but I’m afraid Lady Rhea had noticed my research because of the books I borrowed. I may divert their attention by doing some side work if that is what you desire.

…

\-------

The Reverend Rosemary Meadows,

Additional discretion is not needed. Rhea wouldn’t harm the Princess in that way.

Do not let more people know.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius

\-------

6th of the Garland Moon, 1191.

“Ha—ppy—birrrrrrth—day!! Alex and—where’s your sister?” Sylvain’s smile freezes, his face from joy to mortification. The boy woke up three seconds ago. He stares at the other empty bed, rubs his eye, and shakes his head in confusion.

So the castle searches for their young Princess again. And—just like the last time—Felix finds Sitri in the family tomb, sound asleep on the top of Byleth’s sarcophagus as if the cold slab is more comfortable than her luxurious toddler bed made of the finest wool and silk.

“Shit. She’s making this day even harder,” Sylvain says, taking a deep, trembling breath. He has given himself a long pep talk in the bathroom that morning, but nothing can prepare him for this. “Sorry, Fe. I need a moment.” And he walks out.

When Felix gets closer, he notices that both the late King and Queen’s statues wear a garland made of butterfly ranunculus.

And he tenses up—not because of the sight, but a feeling—a feeling of warmth and familiarity. It feels like wind, but it’s not. It feels like a shadow, left by someone long gone, but it’s not. Felix can sense it moving towards Sitri, and then, there is a voice, beckoning the girl’s name.

Felix gets alarmed by the thought. _What am I even thinking?_

The girl stirs slightly, still asleep. Felix picks her up and carries her upstairs. Sylvain has been waiting outside. His eyes are red.

They hold a small birthday celebration that day, considering how uncomfortable the nobles can make Sitri feel. Peter is there, Alex’s two new friends, too (Braden and Diana, very friendly towards Sitri). Claude sends a messenger with countless Almyran children’s garbs for training—he is stuck in some tricky domestic affairs and cannot travel. The Lions all show up, and Ashe sent a card for the twins and letters for each Lion, a lot of Duscur toys, and, surprisingly, lots of Ashe’s homemade cakes and snacks that a local mage cast a spell to retain its freshness—Ashe has explained it in the letter. It’s the first time Felix ever hears about such a spell.

“Well, we’ll have enough dessert for the road. Isn’t it great?” Sylvain picks up both the twins, somehow still managing to hold the letter while having a piece of cake in one hand and a glass of apple juice in another, feeding the twins and keeping an eye on Lucas, who has been waiting for the opportunity to steal a piece. As planned, they will spend two weeks in Fraldarius so the twins can see wheat harvest, and another week in Gautier for horse riding, and maybe they will go on a hiking trip to see the border of Fódlan and Sreng.

However, the twins are disappointed that Flayn doesn’t show up, which the couple finds very bizarre—the priestess never misses a single event of the children.

The little party they threw ended without fanfare. Everyone is happy. A lot of toasts are made; a lot of best wishes are exchanged, and when it is time for everyone to say their goodbye, the door is thrown open, revealing a shadow of Wyvern and a _furious_ man.

“WHERE IS FLAYN?” Seteth raises his lance. The children start screaming in terror, so Ingrid quickly orders a battalion of knights to escort them back to the Prince and Princess’s room.

_Oh, fuck this man who fucks up the twins’ day_. Felix is ready to confront the greenhead, but Sylvain pulls him back. “Oh hey, Seteth. We could’ve sent you an invitation if you wanted to come that bad,” he gives Seteth a smile.

“Just cut that, Margrave Gautier. I am asking you, Fraldarius, _where is Flayn_?!”

“She didn’t show up. I was also wondering what happened.”

Annette asks with furrowed brows, “Forgive me, but why do you look for Flayn here?”

“She left me a letter but didn’t say where she was heading to. She always comes to Fhirdiad—”

“Okay, but that doesn’t make any sense, and I think you’re not telling the full story here,” Sylvain says, hands thrown up to his sides.

Seteth turns and sees the Almyran messenger. He is quite distinguishable because of the bright yellow and green robe he wears, “WHERE IS YOUR KING?!”

“I—Lord Seteth, I—”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“Hey, stop terrorizing the man. He is only a messenger, not Claude himself, and Claude isn’t here. And what does Flayn’s disappearance have anything to do with Claude?” Felix frowns.

A long, pregnant pause.

“Shit,” Sylvain gasps, “did she elope with Claude?!”

Everyone’s eyes widen. Ingrid does a double-take, and when she gets her attention back to the real world, the Knight is ready to scold Sylvain.

But then Seteth throws himself into Ingrid’s arms, hugging her tight, and starts to wail. The lady knight is too shocked to do anything.

“Do you not know how to hug anyone back?” Seteth says while sobbing.

Ingrid’s expression is downright funny now. Hesitantly, she pats on the man’s back two or three times, but she clearly has trouble understanding where to put her hands and arms. In the end, Ingrid decides to put them on Seteth’s arms.

Okay, the trip to Fraldarius and Gautier is canceled, to Felix’s chagrin. He only wants to take the children to see where their father and the couple shared a lot of good memories. Now, the new destination is Almyra.

As only a member of the Church, Seteth doesn’t have the authority to directly negotiate with the head of a foreign country. That job then falls on Felix’s shoulders. For the first time, the Regent completely agrees with his advisors that if he mishandled the situation, or somehow Seteth decides to murder Claude, this will be a fucking international crisis. Therefore, Felix makes a special arrangement to keep the bishop away from any access to the wyvern and weapons, just in case he decides to fly off to Almyra on his own.

The two people who the Regent makes the request to happily takes up the mission that clearly no one would dare touch.

And the two brave soldiers are the twins.

Alex and Sitri are asked to use all of their fussy annoying toddler energy to _drain_ Seteth. Want a snack? Ask Lord Seteth! The carriage is too bumpy? Let Seteth know! The journey is so freakin long and boring and you don’t know what to do? Go bother Seteth!

In the end, the task that many compare to slaying a dragon before jumping into the North Sea from the highest cliffs in Fraldarius in the middle of winter and swim three loops around the entire Fódlan (meaning you have to cross the canal under Duscur and Sreng control), the twins complete it with absolute success.

However, the twins can only do that much. Once they entered the Almyran capital, Felix knows it is time for him to work.

But he probably underestimated the task.

“ **CLAUDE VON RIEGAN!** ” Seteth roars upon entering the palace, his voice trembling the ground. Sylvain scrambles to protect all of the weapons.

Claude, apparently, has been waiting for them. He appears to be sitting in the sunny main garden with Flayn, with a full set of tea and desserts in front of them. Hearing her father, the priestess almost jumps from the chair, but Claude pulls her back down. He stands up to greet the murdering bishop instead.

“Hello, Seteth,” the King smiles, reaching out a hand.

Seteth completely ignores him, striding towards Flayn. However, Claude quickly shifts to block Seteth from confronting Flayn. Seteth growls, “Stand, aside, von Riegan.”

“If you have any aggrievement, come to me. Never Flayn.”

“Do you think I’ll ever hurt my daughter?”

“Hey, you look so angry. I can’t risk anything—”

“How **dare** you! First, you kidnapped my daughter—” ( _Daughter_? Felix and Sylvain look at each other, eyes wide.)

“Kidnapped? _Kidnapped_?!”

“And hold her as a political hostage, and now you are accusing me—”

“Lord Seteth, allow me to remind you—”

“ **That’s _enough_!**” and now it is Flayn’s turn to roar, using what she learned from Raphael well. Sylvain does a double-take. “You _never_ approved our relationship. What do you expect me to do?”

“That’s not the excuse for you to run away with this devious—"

“ **I am with child, Father!** ”

Ingrid, again, is too shocked to even say a word. Sylvain runs away with a hand on his mouth and a sound similar to a strangled wheeze. Felix knows the redhead needs to go somewhere else to get a good laugh—doing so here is just… well, insensitive.

Flayn puts a hand on her belly, and Claude has his hand around her waist. She is wearing an Almyran dress, and apparently, women here prefer everything loose. It doesn’t show her stomach.

It seems like Seteth is petrified.

After a long while, “How… how far along are you?”

“Five months, Father.”

_Alright, five months_. That is indeed when Claude last visited Fhirdiad around the New Year.

And Seteth looks like he is going to cry. “Excuse me,” he then hurries off the garden. Felix knows he is going somewhere else to wail again.

Claude the bastard only grins brightly, peppering kisses on Flayn’s face. “Oh well, I was indeed correct that he is your dad, huh? I mean, ”

“Do stop that smirk, Khalid,” Flayn gentling pushes him away. “Let me go check on my Father.”

So finally, Felix’s part comes—negotiation. Seteth sadly approves Flayn and Claude’s union, and the wedding will take place at Garreg Mach after Flayn gives birth. Since the two already held a wedding in Almyra, the child would not be out of wedlock, though the situation is indeed quite unconventional. More details are argued over. Lots of fists are slammed on the table. Lots of shouting from Felix’s part. Sylvain has to constantly keep Seteth away from Claude, but in the end, everything is settled.

Felix groans. Finally. No more secret rendezvous in Castle Fhirdiad. No more hiding from Seteth. No more worrying about his neck.

He looks out of the window. Claude has taken the twins up his white wyvern, ready for some flying. They look happy, and that’s enough for Felix.

\-------

Dimitri enters Rhea’s office. He inhales and wonders why he is stuck with the Archbishop again.

“Chamomile, Your Highness?” Rhea closes the door behind him, her voice ethereal and almost gentle if not the hint of guard and _plot_ Dimitri senses.

“Tea is not necessary. What do you wish to discuss, Lady Rhea?”

Rhea smiles, but she waves her hand to summon a fire and boils some water in seconds. The Archbishop indeed takes her time, putting out the finest tea set and picking the best chamomile she can find. The rain goes on, and Dimitri feels something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what.

“Is it not common for the leader of the Church and the future monarch of the Kingdom to chat? A bonding process, as people call it?” Rhea says. “Please rest assured, Prince Dimitri. It is about the situation today.”

Dimitri nods, but he doesn’t touch the tea. Rhea says nothing about it.

“I wonder if you understand the tension in the West well, Your Highness?”

“I consider myself knowledgeable of the matter.”

“Then you understand that how sensitive the political situation in Western Faerghus is, and how… many Kingdom nobles of other areas having making claims that both House Gaspard and House Charon were involved in the Tragedy of Duscur? Forgive me if that triggers terrible memories, my Prince.”

_Did they?_ Dimitri inhales sharply. His migraine is coming back.

The goddess says by his ear, “They probably kept it away from you. You’re not actually in power yet.”

“Lady Rhea, I do not believe either of those houses was ever involved in the Tragedy.”

“Neither do I,” says Rhea. Her eyes can tell that she is telling the truth. “As I understand, they were the backbone of the Pro-Duscur supporters. They encouraged your father to go on the diplomatic visit, and they are now being attacked because of their position. However, you must understand that the Church has a duty to protect the integrity of virtues and bring justice to the world. Failing to do so, dear Prince, will result in instability. I’m afraid I have to be blunt and say your Uncle isn’t getting everything under control, so the Church must step up to calm down the situation.”

Dimitri has a feeling of what she is going to say.

Rhea continues, “House Gaspard is… only an offshoot of House Rowe, and neither of them possesses a lineage of Crest.”

The Prince feels rage boiling inside, and yet his voice is still very, very calm. “You mean that no matter what, the Church must provide the nobles and the people of Faerghus a name, to turn in a scapegoat? And you plan to turn in Christophe instead of Cassandra because he’s Crestless?”

“By doing so, Cassandra and House Charon can be spared. Lord Christophe is not yet the leader of his house, so Lord Lonato would be unharmed.”

“And you call that the integrity of virtues and justice, Archbishop?” Dimitri stands. “I will _not_ allow it.”

Before Rhea can say anything, the door creaks open. Dimitri turns and sees Cassandra, covered in spots of blood.

“Lady Rhea,” Cassandra bows, voice trembling. “I… It is—it is done.”

_No._

The ghosts are back, filling in the empty, spacious room with their laughs. Soon Christophe will join them and haunt him forever, and Dimitri will—

“Princeling, hey! You still have me!” Sothis snaps a finger in front of Dimitri, who tries to focus his gaze on her face. “Good! Earlier I lost you to those hallucinations. It was terrible.”

“Sothis, take me back,” Dimitri says. He doesn’t even care Rhea is present and can hear him.

The Archbishop’s eyes widen, a hand over her mouth, “My goodness—Dimitri!”

“Are you sure? It will absolutely drain you, and you will only have two chances because more will kill you.”

“Mother, please—are you here?” Rhea is on the verge of tears.

“I am sure, Sothis. I cannot allow her to kill Ashe’s brother. Not again,” Dimitri closes his eyes, ignoring Rhea completely. “Take me back to when I woke up.”

And then time shatters around him. Rhea’s tears and faces become a distant future that hopefully he won’t see again. Everything flashes in front of his eyes, and after the familiar swirl of dizziness, Dimitri opens his eyes and finds Rowan waking him up.

“Summon the knights,” says Dimitri, voice coarse like his older self. “We have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter involves child abuse and maternal mortality in the ancient Fódlan.
> 
> I decided to end it like this because the next few chapters definitely need some planning, especially I have to figure out Dimitri’s different attempts at saving Christophe.
> 
> I recently noticed that in Felix’s tea party dialogue, he likes children at the market. That is just so cute, and hence the beginning of the chapter.
> 
> Also, it is so hard to write recently, but I have a lot of fun with this chapter. I had to spend a lot of time looking up words. Seeing the word and knowing what it means is one thing, and recalling and using that word is another. I guess another reason is that Byleth doesn’t emote much yet know, so it is hard to capture his conflicts with other people. Conflicts create plot my friends.
> 
> And the cut from past to the present timeline… Goddess. If I make everything happening in sync, then the pace of the general story will go wrong, but if not, it is hard to plan and write.


	19. Your Secret, My Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri handles Christophe’s situation.  
> First day of school for the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So starting this week is my last semester in college, which means thesis and everything that will drive me crazy. (I have a film production class that is basically nuts. I am supposed to submit a script on Wednesday and yet I have no idea what I am going to write oh well.) Also, I’m picking up figure skating that I stopped years ago and my training schedule is intense because recently some medical check-ups really suggest that I should work out.
> 
> I’ll stick to the usual update schedule to my best, but if I miss a week or two, I’ll tell y’all on Twitter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> See end notes for content warnings.

Dimitri strides out of the guest quarters and finds Lord Kleiman’s room near the staircase—with the door slightly ajar and the luxurious items inside, the Prince figures out the identity of its dweller. Not even Sylvain’s family, the richest of Faerghus, can afford that much of silk. (Not to mention Dimitri is well aware that Kleiman paid his way to viscounty during his uncle’s reign in the previous world.)

Dimitri pauses. So Kleiman encouraged Lady Rhea to capture Christophe, did he not? It was the case in the last timeline, and the same this time.

Felix, Byleth, and everyone is already up. The student dormitory and the cleric quarters are far away. The Prince has an idea.

And sets a fire.

(Byleth forced all the faith and reason sessions on him for a reason.)

“Wow,” Sothis looks at him as if meeting a completely new person. “Wow. Now Rhea and everyone have to evacuate the building, so we can snatch Christophe away.”

_No one would ever suspect the Prince burning down the monastery, right?_

“But then they will blame the Western Church.”

_We can handle that after rescuing Christophe._

Dimitri isn’t prone to magic, but the fire spell was something he always used when spending five years on the run. He is at least well practiced with this one. He quickly runs out of the building after making sure the carpet sets fire on the tapestry and then wooden furniture. The hallway burns. When the Prince sets foot in the courtyard, waiting for Rowan to bring the Knights, Dimitri try to look as relaxed as possible as if he doesn’t even know the monastery is on fire.

Rowan shows up with his men. One of them spots smoke from a few windows, “Fire!”

“What?” Dimitri sounds as if genuinely shocked, looking up to the direction of where the Knight is pointing at. “Ah! We must alarm the monastery and evacuate everyone!”

“I didn’t even know you can _act_ ,” the goddess giggles.

_I lived in the slums for a year, Sothis. I learned many things._

As planned, the emergency bell is rung. People are evacuated. The nobles and clerics alike frantically run out of the buildings, scattering on the monastery grounds. With all of his Knights gone helping people, Dimitri runs around alone, spotting Rodrigue, Byleth, Felix, Ingrid, and everyone unscathed near the pond. Dedue, obviously, is frantically looking for his Prince.

“There!” Sothis shouts, pointing at a lone figure. Lord Kleiman is panting and pale and visibly scared in the corner, alone. And even if there are people around, it is too dark to see anything.

“Good evening, Lord Kleiman,” Dimitri nods at him.

“Oh, Your Highness! It is… it is such an honor to be able to see you… even under this strange circumstance,” Kleiman says with a sycophantic smile.

“Is it?” Dimitri asks, a bright smile on his face, too. “I’ll see you in the eternal flames.” And he smashes the man unconscious, throwing him down the shore, quiet and easy as if it is a boulder that falls into the water. Dimitri didn’t even bother to see the horror on that man’s face in his last moment.

Right, problem solved. Dimitri strides back to the main tower, where Rhea and the prisoners are.

And yet, under the dim candlelight, Dimitri faintly figures out a body on the ground in front of the Archbishop—a knight with brown hair. Ashe throws himself over that body, weeping.

“These scoundrels not only attempted my life but defiled the sacred ground! And they shall pay, right here! Right now!” Rhea shouts with a strange, raw voice, which Dimitri hardly believes belongs to the always ethereal Archbishop.

“Shit,” Sothis says. Without a moment of pulse, time shatters around them—second try.

Dimitri wakes up with terrible chest pain. He almost feels his heart is cracking into pieces, but there is no time to waste. What time is it? Clearly, it is before Rowan has woken him up. Dimitri is disoriented, his brain temporarily shut down due to the pain.

_Sothis, what’s the time?_

“Thirty minutes after you fell asleep, four hours before Rowan wakes you up. I doubt the assassins have done anything.”

_Okay, do you have a plan in mind?_

“We let them kill Rhea.”

Dimitri’s head clears at once. “Wow, Sothis,” he doesn’t care if people can hear him anymore.

“What? You heard all of her shit-talking about Crest and the Crestless. It’s not too late to join Edelgard’s cause.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. The Kingdom still needs Rhea to rein in Cornelia and my uncle.” Dimitri pauses before asking, “Didn’t you give the mortals Crests in the first place?”

“Well, let’s focus on the current job first. After Rhea dies, Seteth will take control—”

“No. Nobody dies today,” Dimitri gets out of bed, grabbing his attire from the closet, but someone stirs in their joined beds.

“Dima?” Felix yawns and rubs his eyes groggily. “Are you talking to someone?”

“Don’t get little Felix in this! He’s still a child,” Sothis says.

Dimitri ties the lace of his stockings, turning to Felix, “There’s something I need your help with, Felix.” And ignores the screams and protests from a certain goddess.

They wake up Byleth and Dedue. Dimitri briefly explains it to them that someone is trying to frame Christophe, and they have to get him out of Garreg Mach as soon as possible. Felix loves Dimitri too much to question, and Byleth doesn’t emote enough to ask, and Dedue is… Dedue.

And the four teenagers find Christophe and Ashe together in their room after almost banging a hole out of the door.

“Christophe, Christophe!” Dimitri beckons, shaking the brunette out of his stupor. “You have to leave, now!”

“Uh?” Christophe is all confused, half of his mind still in deep slumber. “I don’t understand, Your Highness.” Ashe stirs awake by the commotion.

“Oh just shove him out of the room already!” Felix gets impatient, crossing his arms.

Dedue throws a sweater over Christophe’s body and some pants over his boxers while the poor knight still doesn’t know what is going on.

“Someone is going to frame you. They want you dead,” Dimitri buckles the pauldron on Christophe. “My current station can’t save you from the blame, so you have to run, now.”

Christophe’s eyes widen, “But what about my family? What about Ashe?”

“I’ll protect them,” Dimitri puts the lance Byleth finds in the dark into his hands. “Just go.”

Dedue opens the door for him only to reveal a battalion of Knights of Seiros.

Dimitri’s throat tightens. He only has two chances, and now he’d wasted them all. “What business do you have here?” his tone is dark.

“There was an incident, and Lord Christophe is one of the suspects.”

“What are you talking about? I was with my brother all the time!” Ashe cries.

A few knights barge in the room, ignoring everyone’s protest, and tries to grab Christophe. A Knight pushes him down on the floor, but Christophe fights back, for he cannot believe himself to be suspected of anything. However, his resistance only brings more Knights in. His arms are folded behind his back, almost broken into a strange angle, and Christophe shouts in pain. To stop him from crying out, another knight almost chokes him.

Yet, no one expected Ashe to throw himself in front of his adoptive brother. His sudden movement alarms one of the youngest knights, who attacks out of self-protection though Ashe bears no arm at all. It all happens too quickly, and Ashe falls into a puddle of his own blood with a silent yelp.

Christophe is infuriated. “What are you doing?!”

“I didn’t want to—" the young knight pales.

“Ashe!” Dedue kneels next to the boy with silver hair, voice trembling with fear and tears. “Please, Ashe—”

Byleth heals the boy, but seconds later, he raises his head, “It’s too late.”

Dimitri’s world darkens. Not Ashe. Ashe cannot—

“Dimitri, there is nothing we can do,” Sothis says.

“Oh, go to hell, Sothis,” Dimitri says out loud, startling a few people in the room, and wills time to shatter around him. His ghosts are loud, but Dimitri has to ignore them. He has to. He has to think of a solution. He has to save everyone. He cannot let Ashe or anyone die.

But it is so hard. Lambert and Patricia are dancing. Glenn singing with the rest of the Knights of Faerghus, and if he wasn’t covered in grime with half of his skull intact, Dimitri would find his voice rather intoxicating. It is a dark melody, singing about death and the frigid afterlife, lingering with regret and hatred.

“Dimitri, breathe with me,” the goddess kneels in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

“ _Don’t—touch me_ ,” Dimitri spits every word. “You’re useless, Sothis, just like you always are.”

Sothis is too hesitant, “Dimitri, maybe this is… fate.”

The Prince laughs, “Here we have the **_goddess of Fódlan_** , talking about fate and things she **_cannot change_** as if they are not something of **_her creation_** in the beginning.” His eyes turn red, voice coarse like the beast he is. “You are the one who is **_supposed_** to decide everyone’s fate, and yet you **_cannot_** , so **_I won’t_** believe in destiny. I can take another Pulse. Send me back.” Dimitri demands.

“I cannot, Dimitri—”

“ **I can take another one!** ”

“I cannot let you die, Dimitri!”

Dimitri growls in fury. There must be a way. He cannot stand by and watch Dedue in grief. He cannot let everyone down, not when he has even gained access to the _fucking divine power_ —even just a little bit.

_Time._

_If I could turn back the hand of time to bring Sylvain back in **the past world** , I can do it again here._

“Dimitri, don’t—”

And yet, the Prince doesn’t bother to listen. As if having muscle memory, he finds the force in his body and triggers it, and the world swirls around him.

Dimitri wakes up from the bed, coughing blood. Something in his body definitely broke. Sothis’ voice is all blocked out by the pain, but he doesn’t have the time to worry about himself now.

“Byleth,” he shakes the older teen awake.

Felix stirs awake again, just like the last time, “Dima?”

“Byleth, the potion—Someone is trying to frame Christophe and I couldn’t save him and—”

The Prince doesn’t even get to realize how incoherent he is. Byleth frowns, yet voice still calm, “Dimitri, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Prisoners in the ancient world…” Dimitri is interrupted by a coughing fit, spitting more blood into his hand.

Felix stumbles over his worried words, “Dimitri! What is…”

“I’m not important now, Felix. We need to give Christophe the potion now. Rhea will execute him later. The potion will reduce the blood loss, and if I’m not wrong, she will force Cassandra to do it again. We will let her stab him instead of anything else.”

“And then we hide and treat his body?” Byleth follows his logic.

“Exactly,” says Dimitri, hastily throwing his clothes on. His fingers are numb, vision a bit blurry, and head light and painful—the pain increasing every second, but he’s used to the pain of ignored wounds during his exile. He can push through.

“Wait! Didn’t you say it’d be too dangerous to try the potion?” Felix glares at them.

“It’s our only chance,” Dimitri pushes the door open, rushing to wake Dedue up.

Again, they dart across the hallways to Christophe and Ashe’s room. This time, Dimitri doesn’t bother to bang on the door but wrings the door open and scares the soul out of the still sleepy brothers, the older one ready to grab his weapon.

“Oh, it’s you… Your Highness…” Christophe relaxes before tenses up again. He suddenly shakes the sleep away. “Why are you in my room?”

“Do you trust me?” Dimitri asks.

“Of course, Your—”

“Then drink this,” Dimitri removes the cork, shoving the potion into Christophe’s hands. The Knight stares at it. “Look, someone is going to kill Rhea, and Rhea will blame you and the Western Church, and she will kill you. This may help you survive the execution.”

“I don’t under—”

“Do you trust me, Sir Christophe?” Dimitri’s voice changes. It vaguely reminds him of the coarse orders he gave on the battlefield, if not the tender and soft tone still exists in his changing larynx and voice. He is tired, too tired to be aware of his slip.

If Christophe still has anything of doubt on his face, he has made up his mind to push them away and down the liquid in one go. Ashe is still confused and, most of all, scared. The young boy looks up at Dimitri, “Your Highness…”

“Ashe, we don’t have time to explain now. Where is your chaperone of this journey?” Dimitri asks.

So the Prince quickly finds the retainer in the room downstairs, informing him to bring Lord Lonato to the monastery as soon as possible. If best, they can warp to Garreg Mach.

Then when the Knights of Seiros take Christophe away (of course, not without violence), Dimitri makes sure Ashe doesn’t rush and tries to free Christophe again because that certainly will bring Ashe harm and Christophe more suffering. This time, he realizes how terrified Felix looks when the Knights almost twist Christophe’s body in two, forcing him out of the door.

But then the Prince locks eyes with the young man who killed Ashe in the last attempt. Exhaustion disarms all of his control. Dimitri grabs Christophe’s lance and takes a step further but just at this bloodthirsty moment, a warm hand lays on his shoulder.

“Dimitri,” it’s Byleth.

The Prince, half out of his murderous intent, forces himself to turn and face the young man. Yet it seems Byleth while lacking the ability to discern anything related to himself or romance like in the past, still possesses the inexplicable power to read through Dimitri’s heart when the blond absolutely does not want it. His eyes penetrate the Prince’s mind. “Are you alright?” he asks and then adds. “Please, I know you are going to tell me you are fine again.”

“I…” Dimitri has to leave this room. He has to find Cassandra. He has to explain everything to her. He has to prevent this whole tragedy from happening again, and yet here, he is wasting the precious time to talk about his own feelings with Byleth. But he does not have the willpower to turn away this person standing right in front of him.

_Weak_. The ghosts say. Dimitri can’t agree more.

Byleth knows Dimitri won’t say anything, so he stops asking and closes his eyes. The next moment, Dimitri feels a strange wave of energy coursing through his body. It may not be enough, but his head is clearer, and his mood calmer. “Byleth, you can’t waste your energy on me—”

But Byleth decides to ignore the question, “The potion may need some time to take its full effect. Drag Rhea. Don’t let her do anything until dawn.”

Dimitri takes a deep breath, “I understand.”

Byleth nods, “Then after we get him out, where are you going to hide him?”

“Definitely not Gaspard. We cannot risk having anyone seeing Christophe. There is a cave that I…” _hid in for almost three months during my exile before the ghosts forced me to continue killing the Imperial rats_ , “That I found very reclusive. It should be safe enough.” _Since even Edelgard or Cornelia’s men never got to find me there_.

“Then how are we going to take care of him there? He will need a lot of help with the wound he receives.”

That, Dimitri didn’t think of. He struggles to find a solution.

Byleth seems to have already expected this reaction, “I know a place. I’ll make arrangements.”

“Is it far away?”

“A bit, but I know how to get him here,” Byleth lets go of Dimitri’s shoulder since the Prince already calms down. “Now go. Deal with Rhea.”

Dimitri swallows. His nods are heavy. Then he leaves but then turns around at the door, “Thank you, Byleth. I… I can’t express enough—”

“I know. Just go,” the older teen smiles. It almost takes away Dimitri’s breath.

\-------

Dimitri arrives at the audience hall a few hours before the first time. Cassandra appears to have been involved with a heated argument with the rest of the lords in order to defend Christophe, but it quickly escalates into all the Faerghus lords condemning both House Gaspard and House Charon for vehemently supporting King Lambert’s diplomatic to Duscur in the first place, insinuating that both houses aided the Tragedy, which further sends Cassandra into almost a fit.

“My lords!” Dimitri uses that authoritative voice that he is used to again. Though a bit on the juvenile side, at least he grasps everyone’s attention. “It is absolutely irresponsible to claim anyone from Faerghus involving in the Tragedy of Duscur. Such claims should be made to the Court of Essex instead of here, in the holy ground of the goddess.”

After the nobles finally silence up—including Kleiman since it is still politically incorrect to disobey their Crown Prince—Rhea gives him a faint appreciative smile. It seems the argument has drained her too much.

“I did not expect to see you here, Your Highness,” it’s as if Lord Kleiman is speaking to a small child.

“Should he not be here when Faerghus citizens are involved?” Rodrigue retorts.

Again, Rhea passionately declares it treacherous for the Western Church to try to assassinate her and wants them all dead, including Christophe. However, maybe because Dimitri arrived a few hours earlier than the last time, instead of begging Rhea, Cassandra shouts at the nobles and is almost about to throw punches. Somehow the argument loops back to whether Charon and Gaspard were involved in the Tragedy, now that the heiress of the former territory seems to have some very insidious ties with Christophe.

Dimitri many times diverts the topic in an attempt to drag the argument longer, but the nobles get back to the issue every time. Though Byleth casts a spell to ease Dimitri’s pain and cease whatever is breaking from breaking inside him, it can only work that much. He is too tired to drag it further on.

Something hot gushes out of his throat, the taste reminding him of iron. Dimitri quickly turns but tries to look as normal as possible to swallow back the blood, cleaning the corners of his mouth with his sleeves.

“Dimitri?” Rodrigue frowns. Of course, the Shield of Faerghus can always tell when their Blaiddyd has some issue.

“I’m alright. Only sleep-deprived.”

Rodrigue opens his mouth, trying to find a word, but before he can say anything, the door is thrown open. Two figures appear at the entrance.

“Your Grace,” says Lord Lonato. Besides him stands Count Charon. “I received a message from the monastery, so I figured it would be better for me to inform Count Charon, too, since her daughter was also involved.”

Dimitri’s heart stops a beat. He only asked for Lonato, and why would he bring the Count here? He is too soft in any of the councils, always manipulated by his sons if not by other houses. Dimitri didn’t bring him in, fearing that Charon would be forced to something that may compromise Dimitri’s plan.

“How odd,” Lord Kleiman sneers, “both of you decided to warp to Garreg Mach at the same time, so close to the crime.”

“I sent them the message,” Dimitri says. Even as tired and frustrated as now, the Prince can still tell the surprise from everyone. “It was a shock to me for what happened, and witnessing the way the Knights handled Sir Christophe was… very disturbing.” He sends Rhea and the Knights of Seiros a very meaningful look. “It almost convinced me that the Knights were better-organized underworld lords under the employment of the monastery.”

A few knights tense up. Seteth looks angered, and Rhea certainly is disturbed.

“The Knights of Seiros have been left without a Captain for too long. I certainly shall look into the matter, Prince Dimitri,” Rhea says calmly, though her voice is a bit strained.

“Lord Charon, may I ask you to explain why your daughter so vehemently defends a heathen, not to mention a murderer, like the Gaspard boy?” a noble asks.

“Your ability to jump to conclusion is truly remarkable, my lord,” Rodrigue says.

“I am only thinking about the greater good of Fódlan, Your Grace,” the minor lord retorts. He suddenly reminds Dimitri of Edelgard, and yet Dimitri is very sure he says so to benefit himself. “What do you say, Count Charon? I am aware that you allowed a convoy from Duscur passes the day after the Tragedy?”

Odd enough, the ghosts are not making a sound when Duscur is mentioned. Dimitri frowns. If a convoy from Duscur—supposed they were assassins from that area—wants to get in Charon before going somewhere else, they must go through Mateus and Gideon first. Yet Lord Mateus and Lord Gideon are known for their anti-Duscur sentiments, so how was it even possible for them to let in the convoy in the first place?

But before Dimitri can say anything, “I— I had not received any message about the Tragedy at the time. I did not know—" Charon, of course, bites the bait.

“Then, you helped those Duscur traitors because of your stupidity,” Kleiman says.

“Do you have evidence, Lord Kleiman? For example, who the convoy escorts and how they reach Charon?” Dimitri forces himself not to scream because of his headache.

“My, my, Your Highness,” another lord says as if very disturbed, “to think you would protect a traitor who caused your father and step-mother’s death—”

“ **Watch your mouth** ,” Dimitri unsheathes his sword. The minor lord’s retainers bare their weapons as well, which causes Rodrigue and the Knights of Faerghus to get ready to fight in a second; the lances shine with the intent to kill, so all of the Knights of Seiros get into the fighting stance to protect Rhea and Seteth.

_Come on, my Lion. Just stab. Stab and cut open his throat for the rest of us to feast on_. Glenn’s ghost hovers over Dimitri’s shoulders, his voice almost sweet. _Come on. Show them your devotion to us. Show them and prove to us._

_No_. Dimitri tries to shake the voices away. _I don’t…_

_Just do it._

“Everyone, calm down!” Seteth shouts, temporarily pulling Dimitri out of his hallucinations. But how would everyone budge when neither the Prince’s nor the lord’s side refuses to back down.

“You do realize what a crime it is to point your sword at the Crown Prince, do you?” Rodrigue asks, his sword still at the lord’s throat.

“If the Prince does not protect traitors against his own country!”

Dimitri charges. Rodrigue follows. The Knights of Faerghus roar in action. The Knights of Seiros get in to separate the two sides, and under pressure, Count Charon shouts, “It’s Cassandra… She… She saw how battered the convoy was and… She ordered to let them in.”

_What. Is. This._

Cassandra’s sword falls to the ground. Her lips tremble, “Father, I was not even in Charon at the time!”

But her father says nothing. The Lady Knight pales.

“So, if that’s the case,” the lord withdraws his weapon, putting that disgusting sneer back on his face. “I guess we should present this case to the King Regent—as you said, your uncle, Your Highness.” He even dares to bow at Dimitri. “So that we will finally have justice done.”

The bell rings four. It is almost dawn.

“Lady Rhea,” Dimitri’s head pounds with each heartbeat. He turns to the Archbishop after sheathing his sword, “I’d like to speak with you, in private.”

\-------

“You do understand what you are offering, don’t you, Your Highness?” Rhea frowns. “To trade the rest of the Western Church with Christophe?”

“Isn’t that what you and I do all the time? Comparing the advantages and disadvantages. Making decisions. Sacrifices. Trade-offs,” says Dimitri.

Rhea still smiles. “Forgive me, Prince Dimitri. I do not understand what you are talking about.”

He hates it.

He hates everyone pretending to be so good and honorable while doing all the unforgivable things. He hates every political matter must be covered with a mask of justice and “good” while everything underneath has rotted.

Dimitri almost laughs. “You wanted something when you proposed to share tea with me, didn’t you?” He knows what Rhea is about to say, “You hide your intentions and your desire behind that smile and pretend you don’t know a word of what I am talking about—”

He thinks about his and Byleth’s funeral, how Rhea tried to take Sitri away.

“No. Perhaps I am not that important after all. It is Byleth, isn’t it? You want him, but you can’t control him. You need him here, but you know that is not what you can decide. You want something from Byleth and everyone that is related to his blood, do you not?”

Dimitri relishes the way that Rhea already freezes on her spot.

“If playing dumb is what you want, I will walk out of this monastery and take Byleth with me, and we will leave Fódlan altogether and I will make sure you never see any of us ever again. So, take Christophe but spare him from the public execution nonsense, and maybe I shall let you into my secrets a little bit more. You only need Christophe, the _Crestless_ , dead, not the rest of the Western Church.”

\-------

It is quick. Cassandra goes into the cell and comes out bloody. Rhea inspects the body and nods at Dimitri, which almost causes the Prince to snap. However, Lonato doesn’t get to see his son for Byleth, and the mercenaries immediately pull the “dead body” out of the dungeon before Christophe actually bleeds to death—the potion only slows blood loss, not actually preventing it.

Dimitri really is at his limit when he gets back to the ground floor from the underground cells. He thinks he hears Sothis yelling at him, the little girl throwing her tiny fists into the air, obviously scared and frustrated. He keeps himself steady with a hand on the wall and coughs and coughs and coughs, almost coughing his lungs out, and his mouth and both hands covered in blood.

Felix grabs his shoulders when Dimitri’s vision goes black and knees almost giving out. “Dimitri! You… Do you need me to call for Manuela?”

“Felix, later… I—I need your father now.”

“My father can’t heal you.”

Dimitri sees Byleth appear from the other end of the hallway, and the latter immediately makes it to his side when realizing how bad Dimitri’s condition is.

“Rodrigue is with Lonato right now. I need you to bring both of them to me,” Dimitri says weakly. Felix wants to protest, but the Prince stops him, “I know I am unwell, but I have to handle this first, Felix. Please.”

Dimitri is alone with Byleth, “Byl… how… how is…”

“Christophe is fine,” the teen with green hair helps Dimitri sit down on the floor, leaning against a statue of Sothis. “But he may need some extra care until he wakes up.”

“Wake up?”

“Dimitri, let’s worry about you first,” Byleth pushes in another wave of power into the blonde’s body. Dimitri’s head clears again, but only slightly this time. “My power only goes this far. You need sleep, rest, and perhaps time away from the crowd. No more strains for the time being.”

“I can’t.”

Byleth sighs, “I guess so.”

“I feel like without you, I’d already been dead by this time.”

“Wow, that self-awareness of yours. You’re welcome,” the green-haired tilts the corners of his lips. Dimitri feels his in heaven.

A very tired-looking Lord Lonato appears from the staircase, followed by the Fraldarius father and son. Count Charon, apparently, decided to hide away from everyone, especially his daughter, and does not show up.

“Prince Dimitri!” Lonato’s eyes redden with something resembling rage and betrayal, fists tightening. “ **What, did, you, say, to, that, woman**?!”

“Lord Lonato!” Rodrigue pulls him back lest Lonato harms Dimitri.

Dimitri sends Byleth a look and the latter nods. “My lord,” the Prince even has trouble speaking loudly now, his every sentence too breathy for a healthy person. “You need to meet someone.”

“No, you tell me first what you arranged with the Archbishop! Before you went in—”

“ **Lord Lonato** ,” Dimitri says at the top of his lungs, which brings up more coughing fit and blood that spills out of his lips. The lord goes quiet at the sight, mouth wide open. Rodrigue is almost shouting for the Knights of Faerghus to carry their Prince to the infirmary, but Dimitri forces him back and turns to Lonato once again. “Please, follow us.” He almost pleas.

Byleth leads them to the forest. Dimitri is very glad that some ancient ancestors mastered animal husbandry so he could ever ride a horse when the Prince almost lays flat on Rodrigue’s back, too tired to protest when the Shield insists that they ride together.

After what seems to be a thirty-minute ride, they arrive at a shed that Jeralt’s mercenaries stay. It is well hidden behind dense trees, and if Byleth didn’t stop there, Dimitri would’ve mistaken it for another part of the shrubs.

Several mercenaries are alarmed by the sound of hooves and get up with their weapons in hand, but when they see the flash of Byleth’s green hair, they relax and let them in.

Jeralt opens the door quite grumpily, “Oh, it’s you guys. I almost thought Lonato didn’t want his son anymore.”

Lonato’s eyes widen, and legs shake in disbelief, seeing the young knight with brown hair in bed, chest rising and falling. Ashe is carefully wiping Christophe’s forehead with a piece of cloth, Dedue pouring herbal tea into a cup. Rodrigue’s jaw almost falls to the floor.

“Well, so the potion worked,” Felix says.

“But as I said, side effects. I’m not sure when he will wake up,” Byleth responds, then turning to the Gaspard lord, who apparently has a million questions. “It’s hard to explain, but we fed him an ancient potion based on Dimitri’s research that helped Christophe survive the stab.”

“Shit, so that’s what the herbs were for,” Jeralt says. “Lonato, you should reimburse me. They were expensive as hell.”

“You three did it?” Rodrigue stares at the three teenagers in the room.

“Yes,” Dimitri, Byleth, and Felix say at the same time.

Lonato finally finds his way to his son’s bed, refusing to let go of Christophe’s hand. “Thank you… Your Highness. I… sincerely apologize for my words earlier. I know nothing could undone what I said, but… Gaspard is forever in your debt.”

Dimitri sighs, “I did not do this for you to owe me anything, my lord, but…” His words are cut short when a sudden intense chest pain invades all of his senses. Dimitri collapses to the floor, heaving for air. He feels blood pouring out of his mouth. He hears people screaming, but who is it? He can’t tell, but someone brings him closer into an embrace. Dimitri thinks he sees Byleth’s eyes, and he feels at home.

“I wonder why you don’t smell like lemon when you eat so many cookies, my beloved,” he says, and then the world goes black.

\-------

April 1194.

It is six months after the King Regent announced the Eisner-Blaiddyd Program that Byleth painstakingly worked on. The royal couple always had the vision of allowing all citizens to education, so a public school system was brought up to the court even before Dimitri and Byleth married. Since Garreg Mach has a tradition of educating young people from everywhere in Fódlan, Dimitri decided it was better for the Archbishop to handle the matter.

However, Garreg Mach, apparently, is a church, and the nobles are long tired of the idea of forcing religion on their children. Byleth had no problem making the school secular but, in the end, she was the Archbishop, and that sounded almost impossible.

After the death of Dimitri and Byleth (“Whatever shit that happened,” as Felix calls it), the Regent decided to take over the matter. It faced a lot of obstruction from the nobles because education was one of the many things that separate a noble from a commoner, but Felix made it. The Program will start its very first public school in Fhirdiad first before implementing it in other areas.

And for the first time ever in history, the Crown Prince and Princess are going to school with commoners.

(Of course, many advisors suggested that Alex should study with tutors according to tradition, but Felix thought the whole program would be bullshit if he didn’t send both of his— _the boar’s_ kids to the school.)

So, Alex and Sitri are going to Fhirdiad College, as all children from six to eighteen are all welcomed to enroll.

It is a damn struggle in the morning. Putting a six-year-old in his chair to finish his damn breakfast without getting distracted by everything that is going on in the courtyard is hard enough. Putting _two_ to eat after dragging them out of bed at 6:30 in the morning—thirty minutes earlier than they usually woke up—and then having to make sure they both walk to school in time is a totally different story, and not to mention, Felix and Sylvain have to make sure they are properly dressed in their uniform for school.

And to make things worse, Sylvain is actually _crying_ during breakfast.

“Look at both of you,” the sentimental redhead sobs over his bacon. “So grown up. So big now. Going to school away from home. On your own.”

“Oh dear goddess Sothis almighty have mercy…” Felix almost throws his cutlery on his plate. “It’s not like we won’t see them forever.”

“But they’ve never been out of my sight for one hour, not even when the military councils are in session.”

Alex only giggles, breadcrumbs falling everywhere, but then his joyful laughs stop midway, staring into the air as if someone is standing right there. However, he quickly turns away to talk with Sitri, who is playing with the runny egg yolk with her fork.

Felix frowns but decides it’s just a kid thing, “Alright, Sitri, eat your food. Don’t play with it. We’re almost late for school.”

“Okay, Uncle Felix,” the girl says. Her voice is less chubby than before but still very, very, very sweet.

“Are you really sure we don’t prepare sack lunch for them?” Sylvain asks, concerned.

“Sylvain, Ashe’s siblings make the school lunch. Is there even a way it will go wrong?”

“Yeah, I know, but what if there’s something neither of the twins has had before? Like if they get allergic to anything?”

“Please, you’re worrying too much,” Felix sighs.

School lunch, something Byleth proposed that finally launched the Program.

_“So how are you going to convince the commoners to send their children to school when the kids can make money either by working in their family shops or working for other people?” Felix raises an eyebrow._

_Byleth thinks for a moment, “Free lunch for all students, then. Children make less than two coins every day, and that can’t even afford a meal in the Capital. Parents will send children in for food.”_

“Alright, kids, time for school!” Sylvain excitedly announces, throwing his cloak on. “Sitri, if you’re not going to finish that bread, put it down or pack it as your snack. And Alex—goddess, those crumbs on your jacket!”

But then the Margrave sees his husband getting up from his seat too, “You have a lot of work today, don’t you?”

“As I do every day,” Felix says, putting his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. “But I do have time to walk the twins to school with you.”

Of course, people from Fhirdiad all know that the Regent is sending the twins to Fhirdiad College, so many are waiting outside of the castle only to take a peek at the family of four. Though Felix makes sure he and his family make public appearances at least twice a month, it is still a rare sight for the citizens.

Felix hates strangers. He hates public occasions, especially the first day of school is supposed to be something personal, something about the family—just like Glenn walked him to his tutor for the first time when he was five (and Felix cried the entire way)—but Felix puts on a very awkward smile and tries to greet everyone as friendly as possible.

It is a fifteen-minute walk since the school locates near the city hall, not too far away from the castle. And a familiar person is standing in front of the school gate, enthusiastically welcoming every student in with great fervor. “Welcome! Welcome, my children! Please go in, and the teachers will help you find your classroom! Hello dear, oh, I’d love a hug! Aren’t you sweet—oh, Felix! Sylvain!”

Annette picks up the child who asked for a hug, waving at the Regent, the Margrave, and the two most important children in the entire continent.

Felix nods at her. Sylvain flashes her a bright smile and blows a kiss, which sends the raven-haired into an eye-roll and Annette into laughing. “How improper, Margrave Gautier,” she says. “Hello, Alex. Hello, Sitri.”

“Hello, Aunt Annette,” the twins say at the same time, just like they always do because they are… twins.

“Well, now children, Lady Dominic is your headmaster at school, so what are you going to call her?” Sylvain says. Felix rolls his eyes again—as if you are treating Annette any like your…the boar’s children’s headmaster.

“Good morning, Professor Dominic,” the twins correct themselves.

“Aw, aren’t you two good children? Now, go in and find your classroom!” Annette says, putting down the girl in her arms.

Since nobles are still hesitantly about mingling their heirs, heiresses, and children with commoners, most of the students who enroll are commoner-born. The only Houses that send in their children are House Baldwin (“Peter’s here!” Sitri happily screams and runs into the gate, without sparing Sylvain a glance), House Arden (Diana’s family), and House Mercia (Braden). Felix is grateful that they decided to support Byleth’s cause.

Unlike Sitri, Alex stops by the gate and turns to look at Felix and Sylvain, eyes down on his toes.

“Alex, you’ll be fine,” Sylvain says, ruffling his hair.

And the Prince nods as if going in is a heavy decision to make, and turns to walk in, and then turns back again to quickly throw himself into Sylvain’s arms. Many parents and onlookers coo at the sight.

Sylvain chuckles, kissing the boy’s forehead, and then gently pushes him towards the gate, “Go.”

Alex nods again, finally worked up his confidence for his first day.

“Shit,” Sylvain mutters. “I wish it was Dimitri and Byleth here instead of us.”

Felix decides to pull the redhead away as soon as possible in case Sylvain cries out loud in public, so they don’t get to see that Alex turns around to look at them for another time. However, the Prince freezes when a blonde man is in sight, smiling and almost in tears.

Alex smiles back, waving at him.

And the man waves back.

Alex runs into the school ground but turns for a millionth time, waving at the man shyly. The man waves back again, "Have fun, my little lion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter mentions violent actions from the Knights of Seiros similar to police brutality.
> 
> Why do I write so much about Christophe’s case? I think his execution implies a lot of the church’s wrongdoing in Western Faerghus, which eventually sets off the Western Rebellion in which, well, Dimitri scares the hell out of Felix, and it later leads to Lonato’s rebellion. By getting it out of the way, Dimitri has support from the West that lays his foundation to power, and we will see in the next chapter.
> 
> Why do I write about the first day of school? Because Felix and Sylvain walking their kids to school is so freaking cute and I just want to write about it!!! I had a lot of fond memories of my dad cooking breakfast for me before I went to college, and I miss the noodles he makes though they taste absolutely bland and terrible.
> 
> I decide to stick to the canon school schedule because fe3h’s school year is based on the Japanese system that all school years start in spring. I think it makes better sense than the fall-spring system, because… spring is the beginning of a year, isn’t it?
> 
> Next up. Someone is really, really, really in trouble. Perhaps more so than Christophe because they are not noble. Wanna see Dimitri actually in action and throws some punches at some racist assholes? Wanna see his new fantastic class? Wanna see how he gets popular support?


	20. Dreaming Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude talks about his relationship.  
> Dimitri starts having questions about his family history. He and Byleth have a conversation.  
> Everyone goes: Can you stop dying on us Dimitri??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, fluff got me carried away from the “Dimitri’s new fantastic class” I talked about last week. We’ll get there very soon. I promise.

Dimitri opens his eyes and, of course, finds himself in Castle Fhirdiad. There are two children at the table that he barely recognizes, both with blond hair and blue eyes…

Aren’t they his children?

Dimitri floats across the room to get a closer look at Alex and Sitri. Sitri is painting on the plate with her egg yolk. Alex’s habit has not changed a bit—he still loves to break a piece of bread into tiny, tiny pieces before shoving them all down into his mouth, making a huge mess in the process. Byleth tried to correct that manner for so long, and apparently, Felix has failed, too.

_How old are they? Six? Seven?_

_What year is this?_

“2nd of the Great Tree Moon, 1194,” says Sothis.

Dimitri swallows. _So they are almost seven_.

How much did he miss out?

Dimitri sighs, turns, and locks eyes with Alex. The boy looks stunned, but something in his eyes tell Dimitri it is more than shock. He smiles at his son.

Suddenly the ghost hears Felix’s iconic grumpy voice, “Alright, Sitri, eat your food. Don’t play with it. We’re almost late for school.” Dimitri turns his head around. Felix and Sylvain have changed. Sylvain seems to have lost some weight probably because he picked up his training after the javelins of light incident. His facial hair gives him a weathered look. Felix has kept his hair down. He looks regal but… soft, with all the dark waves softening his feature—at least Dimitri thinks so. From the look of the court ladies and Knights of Fearghus, they still fear him. If he only stares at his profile, Dimitri would mistake him for Rodrigue coming back to life.

“Okay, Uncle Felix,” the girl says. Dimitri almost doesn’t recognize that voice.

“And Alex, you are going to get breadcrumbs everywhere in your uniform,” Felix sighs, rubbing his temple with his left hand while his right holds a cup of coffee.

When did Felix start drinking coffee of all things? It was a rare product in Faerghus before the unification, and back in the academy, Sylvain bought some so the Faerghus 4 could try. They all thought Felix would like some bitter drink such as this, but the Fraldarius heir almost spat it out immediately before quickly downing a cup of water. The acidity and the earthiness bothered him too much.

It makes sense. Felix probably needs it now as the Regent (as Dimitri did), no matter how terrible the taste is to him.

_Where are they going, by the way? Why are they wearing school uniforms?_

“Are you really sure we don’t prepare sack lunch for them?” Sylvain asks, concerned.

“Sylvain, Ashe’s siblings make the school lunch. Is there even a way it will go wrong?”

“Yeah I know, but—"

Dimitri blinks before smiling. _The first day of school, so Felix finally made public school happen_. _Byleth would be happy if she knew_.

_He_. If he could still remember.

Dimitri follows the family of four (the idea of the twins, Felix, and Sylvain as a family unit still pains him though he really shouldn’t be) walk out of the castle, hastily down the streets since they are almost late, and Alex doesn’t even look at him the entire walk. He is too busy looking down at his feet, too nervous about leaving home for eight long hours.

“Don’t worry, Alex,” Dimitri says, trying to cheer him up. “You’ll be fine.”

Alex briefly lifts his head up before lowering again. He has always been a sensitive, shy child, and Dimitri is glad that he still knows his son.

Sitri, on the other hand, is too excited about seeing the citizens and the streets of Fhirdiad. It sends complicated feelings of joy and sadness to see her so happy after many months of solitude and grief. Maybe her new friend (Peter, right?) helped her out. Maybe she finally moved on. They’ve now spent more years with Felix and Sylvain than with her birth parents, so maybe the pain of losing them has long passed.

Maybe being forgotten isn’t that bad.

“Please stop it, princeling. Your thoughts make me sad, too. There’s no way they’d forget about you or Byleth.”

Dimitri ignores her.

“Are you legit pretending not to hear me at all?”

_I’m still mad at you, Sothis._

But after a few seconds, Dimitri the good boy feels bad leaving Sothis so disappointed. He sighs. _I’m not sad. Felix is a good father to them._

“You’re a good father, too.”

_I **was** not. _Dimitri stresses the past tense. _I left them._

“It’s not like you chose to die!”

_Besides,_ Dimitri cuts her off, _perhaps they are happier not remembering what happened_. He stops at the school gate, a bit relieved to see Annette being the headmistress. Ignatz is in the back (Dimitri wonders if he teaches arts here), helping new students find their classrooms. _And better, if they didn’t remember us altogether_.

“You’re so full of sad shit,” Sothis grumbles.

Sitri bolts into the school the second she sees Peter, ditching a sad Sylvain who tries to kiss her goodbye like all parents are doing right now.

And Alex stops, turning to look at his adoptive parents. Dimitri’s heart swells with joy and equal parts of pain at the sight. His children have got so much taller, baby fat gradually leaving their face. He is blessed to have Felix and Sylvain as his friends, who apparently have showed the twins all of the love they can give. Dimitri watches as Alex runs into Sylvain’s arms and the redhead hugs back. He is envious, thinking he can no longer hug his children no matter how hard he tries.

Felix drags Sylvain away when the latter is about to cry, and then Dimitri sees Alex turn again. This time, the boy’s gaze meets Dimitri’s.

It’s only the two of them.

Dimitri waves, and then waves, and then waves again until Alex finally gathers all of his courage and steps inside the school.

Dimitri watches him run, his right hand still in the air, and when he finally puts it down, he realizes he’s been crying.

The ghost doesn’t know how much longer he stays in front of the school gate.

“Hey, hey, Dimitri. Don’t cry,” Sothis hugs him tight, all of the wheels in her tiny head turning to try to cheer him up. “If you want to see him that bad, then let’s get in!”

Dimitri almost listens to her. “No… this is… No. They’re supposed to be on themselves at school.”

\-------

Since he doesn’t know how long he will be dragged back to the new timeline, Dimitri spends the morning and early afternoon wandering in the city. He may not get a better chance to look around his home. Fhirdiad is in good shape—better than when he left for Fraldarius and died on his way back. He doesn’t see any refugees relying on charity to get food and shelter, maybe one or two homeless. Bakeries that used to be empty stuff their shelves with fresh bread and desserts. Grocery stores that only had potatoes and potatoes and more potatoes are full of asparagus and peas and leafy greens harvested just that morning—things Faerghus farmers never had the time or energy to grow in the frigid land—still shining with dew. Even brothels get a lot of customers (ahem). The city guards keep those less prosperous areas safe from danger, and Dimitri is very, very surprised to see the streets around those brothels are not drained in dirty water or full of trash that no one bothers to clean. It looks decent, and if not for the signs of naked men and women on the front door, Dimitri would not even know what those properties were for.

Felix does a good job, even better than him.

“Would you stop being so self-deprecating?” Sothis sighs. “It’s been three years. You could’ve done it should you have the time.”

Dimitri smells something familiar. When he turns and sees the restaurant, he almost laughs. It was Byleth’s favorite food cart, selling Almyran food that even Claude said was good. Now the vendor and his sons have turned it into a diner.

Sometimes on a Friday night, after the couple put their children in bed, they would put on the weirdest clothes and sneak out into the city, only to get some roasted sliced lamb the vendor cut from a huge, slowly rotating spit from the oven, coal still burning red underneath. It was juicy and tender, with the Almyran spices that indulged Dimitri’s nose. Both of them loved the deep-fried bean balls there, too. Its texture just hooked him, and the smell of parsley reminds him of cooking together with the Lions at the academy.

Byleth would order one for Dimitri (“A lamb sandwich with the bean balls on the side.”), and one for herself (“And an extra-large bowl with extra lamb and extra balls, no salad please.”), and feed Dimitri herself. He never felt embarrassed and was quite proud when the onlookers shot them envious or disgusted glares when they dared to openly show off their disgusting affection towards each other. No one ever recognized them. However, the feeding-my-dear-husband thing had a practical reason. Dimitri always gripped his sandwich or bowl too hard and the whole thing would explode. Then all the juicy lamb with burning hot juice would splash everywhere on his shirt, leaving a whole mess and sometimes burning his skin, not to mention wasting the food that stray dogs would later feast on. In the end, Dimitri used it as an excuse to indulge himself, having Byleth put a slice of lamb in his mouth and licking her fingers and palms clean afterward.

_“Ooh, naughty, naughty boy!” Byleth yelps when Dimitri gently bites her fingers._

_“Are you sure you’re not part of the meal, beloved?”_

Dimitri stops his reverie when the bell of a nearby chapel rings thrice, with Sothis giggling at his memories in the back. “Stop laughing,” he says without a trace of sheepishness. “It’s time to pick up the children.”

Well, maybe not him picking up the twins.

When Dimitri gets back to Fhirdiad College, he finds Felix and Sylvain already there, and Lucas the Blaiddyd Rex sits nice and quiet next to them, patiently waiting for his young humans. The ghost is not surprised when Lady Tatiana Aemilia Baldwin steps out of her carriage, nodding her greetings with Felix and Sylvain. Then Lord Edward John Arden (Diana’s father) showed up on horseback, tipping his hat first to Tatiana, then to the commoners, and then to the Regent and his husband.

“Lord Mercia would not be coming,” Edward says, getting off his horse.

“Of course. He always allows Braden to run about in the city,” Tatiana chuckles.

The school bell rings. Then three seconds later, a swarm of screaming little children storm out of the school building like wild animals, racing to get to the front gate as if their life depends on it. The commoner parents are well used to this while the noble ones do a collective double-take. Then the screaming swarm was followed by a few older teenagers, walking leisurely towards the gate while chatting with their friends.

Sitri and Peter caper out of the gate, hugging their goodbye before running towards their parents—well, Sitri changes her direction to Lucas when the dog starts barking and jumping excitedly.

“LUCAS!” she hugs the dog tight after totally misses the sad look on Sylvain’s face and his open arms. “Why is he here?”

“He’s been crazy today not seeing you two in the castle, so when we came to pick you up, he followed,” Felix says and then frowns, staring at the empty campus where students have all left. “Where’s your brother?”

“He volunteered to clean up the classroom. I think Diana and Braden are in there, too.”

“…and you’re not with him?”

Sitri blinks, “We take turns. I’ll wait until it’s my turn. Hate cleaning.”

“Oh well, he’s just like your father,” Felix shakes his head. Dimitri blushes because he always stayed to clean up the Blue Lion classroom just to spend a bit more time with Byleth, but he is quite sure Alex is not trying to hit on his first-grade teacher.

“How about this, Sitri,” Sylvain picks her up so she can sit on his neck. Dimitri remembers how much she enjoyed it when he did it. “Maybe you should join your brother’s group. That way we’ll only wait for both of you on one or two days.”

And finally, Alex and his friends are done with the cleaning. They head home.

Dimitri floats behind the family of four, and Alex keeps turning and peeking at him as if not sure what to do. At some point, when Lucas refuses to leave a food cart that sells grilled sausages, the four stops so that Sylvain can drag the hungry dog away (before, of course, purchasing a few pork sausages for the vendor’s trouble), and Alex points at Dimitri, mouth open and ready to say something to Felix. The blond ghost immediately shakes his head, putting a digit at his lips. Alex blinks and blinks, finally putting down his hand.

Dimitri follows them diligently, watching the twins do their math homework on the floor, listening to Sitri practice her piano—she’s been very good now—while Alex scratches Lucas’ belly on the couch. Later, he sits on the chandelier as the royal family shares their dinner as usual. Dimitri is surrounded by his friends and family, and yet he is all alone.

Well, the goddess doesn’t count. (“RUDE!” Sothis smacks his head.)

The late King is very, very shocked to see Claude and Flayn arrive shortly before dinner, with a _child_. A toddler around the age of two or three with Flayn’s green hair and Claude’s complexion. He can’t quite tell whose green eyes the boy inherited. _When did they even get married?_ Dimitri can’t imagine he missed the wedding and probably Seteth wrecking the entire Almyran palace down.

Sylvan tells a joke that everyone laughs at. Then Claude puts down his utensils, wiping the corner of his mouth with the napkin, “Let’s see, Your Grace, if I sent my child to Fhirdiad College after he gets a bit older, would it benefit our both countries? The heir of Almyra having close ties with Fódlan—”

“Then Malik should be a Fódlan citizen first. It is a _public_ school,” Felix cuts him off.

“Aww, Felix! Don’t be so cruel!” Claude puts a hand over his chest as if an arrow has punctured his heart. “Care to share your immigration policies with me? Maybe we’ll consider.”

“Sure, if you share yours first.”

“Enough with politics, boys,” Flayn says, though she still looks younger than everyone except the children. “And Khalid, I would not allow Malik to leave home until he is much older.”

( _Khalid?_ Dimitri frowns.)

“Officers Academy, maybe? Could be a family tradition,” Claude hums before turning to Flayn again. “Has your father mentioned anything about reopening the academy anytime soon?”

“No. Maybe Lady Rhea has other plans.”

Dimitri yawns. He really doesn’t care if the church school reopens or not.

Shortly after dinner, everyone gathers in the drawing room inside the family quarters. Sitri and Sylvain play a piano and cello duet that Dimitri finds so beautiful. The redhead has spent quite a lot of time picking up his cello after peace was restored, and Dimitri wonders if Sitri got the musical talent that apparently only Cecilia, her grandmother, possessed.

Alex and Malik are playing and sometimes wrestling but most of the time cuddling on the other side of the room. They remind Dimitri of his childhood friends, but the age difference is more of Sylvain and Felix. Flayn is reading a romantic comedy she finds from the shelf.

And Claude and Felix both hold a glass of wine and enjoy their rare moment of peace and silence, sitting cozily on the sofa.

“Should I call you Khalid, or should I stick with Claude?” Felix suddenly asks.

“Well, nobody but Flayn in Almyra calls me by my name now, and I’m more used to my wife calling me Khalid in an _entirely different_ manner,” Claude winks. “And it may sound _very, very_ strange if it comes from you.”

Dimitri clears his throat, embarrassed, and Felix rolls his eyes. “That is more than what I need to know.”

“Oh yeah? I bet Sylvain has pet names for you as well. Fe? Feline? Baby—”

“Shut up before I wring your head off.”

Claude holds his stomach and laughs, spilling some wine on the sofa.

“And now Lucy will hate you,” Felix says.

“Lucy? Your head maid?”

Felix nods, wiping some of the wine residues off with his handkerchief. “To be honest,” he throws the stained cloth into a hamper, “I never thought you would… you know, with Flayn.”

Claude pauses before chuckling quietly. “You’re talking about Lysithea, right?” his tone is melancholic.

“Don’t you pretend you had no idea people were betting money on the two of you. Also on the boar and the professor.”

“Well, then did you win the bet?”

“I did not bet. Sylvain lost on yours and won Dimitri’s.”

“Well, Sylvain was not wrong on mine,” Claude finally lifts his gaze to meet Felix’s, his eyes telling a thousand emotions.

“What do you mean?” Felix frowns, placing the glass on the coffee table. Then he understands. “Shit. _Shit._ You can’t mean—”

“Yes. She died, a year after the war.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay. She didn’t want anyone to know, and her parents wished to live in peace after she passed. I’m glad we got to spend her last few months together. It was happy time. I’m glad that later Flayn and I fell for each other. She understands what it’s like to lose somebody and totally embraces my past, and I rely on her comfort. Plus, Thea wished me to be happy when she…” Claude has to stop speaking to compose himself.

Felix is silent. It is rare for Claude to openly discuss feelings and show emotions—the vulnerable ones, and all the heavy information demands Felix to take a large gulp of wine. Dimitri remembers his raven-haired friend and Lysithea shared a lot of great tea times together, and Felix would even eat the cakes she gave him.

And she is gone. The young, talented mage who once warped Dimitri onto the roof and almost risked breaking his neck, the determined but stubborn girl who insisted to carry a hundred books from the library to her room in one go, defiantly refusing the Prince’s help when she tripped and fell in the hallway, is gone.

“Did… did something happen if you don’t mind me asking?” he hears Felix ask. His voice is so much gentler and quieter than usual when not alone with Sylvain.

“She never told me specifically,” Claude sighs, gazing as if into the rip between life and death, earthly world and heaven, past and present. “You remember her Crests, right?”

“I do remember she possessed two Crests.”

“I think it had something to do with that. Someone forced another Crest into her body, and that eventually killed her.”

_Wait._

_Forcing a Crest inside a person. Didn’t the letter—_

Sothis frowns. “The letter of that shady disgusting lord who happens to be Sylvain’s dad? Yes. The letter did mention it.”

_That person said they could even put two Crests inside Sitri._

“Are you suspecting they are the same group of people?” the goddess asks.

Felix contemplates before speaking to the Almyran King again, “Who are those people?”

“I don’t know, and I’m still trying to find out,” Claude finishes his wine and gets up. “Keep it a secret for me, okay?”

Felix nods.

Claude smiles and pats Felix’s shoulder. He then heads to the sofa by the bookshelves, where Flayn reads the trashy romance that Ashe gifted Dimitri when the King wanted to be enlightened about romance. He kisses her temple before sitting down next to her, an arm around her waist.

Felix obviously is still trying to process his thoughts and feelings after the conversation when Sitri stops playing the piano and comes to him.

“I’m tired.”

“It is indeed very late. Time for bed then,” Felix says before picking her up. He gestures to Sylvain to get Alex in bed, too, since the twins always get sleepy at the same time, having the same nightmare and waking up crying at the same time, and even want the same food when hungry at the same time. The Regent and his husband have had countless debates about whether they can communicate to each other in their head.

(They cannot. Dimitri just knows.)

Malik insists on sleeping with Alex, so Flayn takes him to the Prince’s room instead her quarters. The Regent has turned his and Sylvain’s study into another bedroom, and now the twins are living in separate rooms since they’ve grown older.

Speaking of growing older, Dimitri suddenly realizes that Felix is now older than him. Thirty years old is a threshold that used to seem so distant, far, far into the future.

_Is it possible that one day I come back and stare at a Felix with grey hair and Sylvain with a walking stick?_

_Or worse, Alex and Sitri in their 80s?_

Dimitri panics. He loathes and absolutely abhors being dead.

He decides to stay in Alex’s room to make sure he and Malik fall asleep instead of playing through the entire night. He and Felix always did so, barely able to stay awake the next day, and earned a good scolding from Gilbert when showing up at the training ground late.

The ghost floats above an armchair as if he can still sit on any surface and is glad that they both fall asleep quickly. Dimitri needs to check on Sitri before the force of time pulls him back to the new timeline. He has spent much longer here than he ever had. Maybe it’s because he is gravely injured. Maybe he has fallen into a coma for who knows many days.

Dimitri pretends he can still tuck in Alex and the other boy before tiptoeing out of the room as if he can still make a sound by bumping into anything or even walking with footsteps, but then his son stops him.

“Are you hungry? I saved you some buns in my pocket,” he points at his jacket. “They might be cold now, though.”

_So he is not asleep._ The simple gesture warms Dimitri’s heart—to think that he has such a kind boy who cares about his family, “Thank you, my dear, but unfortunately, I cannot eat in this form.”

“Are you a ghost?”

The question is odd, but Dimitri figures maybe Alex was too young to understand his existence after death (not even Dimitri himself can know for sure what exactly he is in this world). “Well, I think so because… I’m dead.”

“Hm,” Alex nods. His eyes somehow make Dimitri alerted. Why is he looking at him that way? “You have our eyes. And hair. You’re a Blaiddyd.”

Dimitri freezes. _Does he…_

“Wait wait wait wait wait, hold on a second,” Sothis screams, pulling her hair and almost ripping all of the green strands out. “Do you not remember your dad?! You stupid little—"

_Please don’t yell at my boy_. The ghost struggles to even find a word to tell Alex, so he mentally talks to Sothis while desperately trying to compose himself. _I have not showed up for too many years, and he was only three._

“Did I say something wrong?” Alex’s eyes turn teary.

“No! You… Alex, you did nothing wrong!”

“Then who are you? One of our ancestors, perhaps? Uncle Felix says there used to be way too many of us in the past and that drove the taxes very high. I don’t know what that means.”

Alex may not understand the sarcasm of Felix, but Dimitri thinks he knows what heartbreak means now. He knows why Alex looked at him that way during breakfast, on his way to school, and later when they got back to the castle. He does not remember him, just like Dimitri cannot even remember his birth mother’s face, and even Lambert and Patricia’s images evade him, his ghosts with nothing but blurry facial features and blood and splashed brain everywhere on their body.

He wonders if the twins remember a tiny bit about Byleth and him. He prays it is something happy, not their bloody and painful last moments during the light attack.

He prays that neither Alex nor Sitri remembers them clearly so they can finally be happy, free of the burdens from the past.

“Well, yes. I am the grandfather of your grandfather of his… many many other grandfathers,” he says.

“Shouldn’t you be in heaven or somewhere like that?”

“To be honest… I do not know why I am still here, and it seems the rest of us is not in the castle anymore.”

Alex stares at him, big blue eyes shining in the darkness. He then looks down. “Have you… seen my mom and dad? You know, Byleth and Dimitri Alexandre Eisner-Blaiddyd. I don’t… I don't remember much about them.”

“Is there not a single portrait in the castle?” Sothis groans. “Didn’t you commission one after the wedding and, and, and… after this little shit and his sister were born?”

_I understand your frustration, but please don’t call him names. My ghost form has both eyes, Sothis, and I look healthier. There is no way he can recognize me._ Dimitri sighs, his attention going back to his son. “Maybe, but I don’t remember. Perhaps they didn’t linger long.”

“Can you please at least let him know you are his dad, Dimitri?” the goddess even begs.

_No._

“Please? Pleeeeease?”

_Sorry, but still no._

“I hate you,” Sothis pouts and whines and grumble and despairs, hiding back into Dimitri’s head. “Aren’t you even sad?”

_My feelings don’t matter here._

Alex’s eyes get droopy as sleep begins to take over, “What’s your name?”

Dimitri blinks.

“It’s unfair that you know me while I know nothing about you,” the boy pouts.

The blond thinks. A recent Blaiddyd may not cover his identity well, so an old one would do. “Lambert von Blaiddyd,” Dimitri decides. Faerghus nobles did not have middle names until their independence from the Empire.

“Were you a king?”

“We were still…Imperial lords back then.”

“A duke, then?”

“Careful Dimitri, he may look you up in that crazy family tree book of yours,” Sothis warns him.

Dimitri mentally nods. “No, I was the second son.” Right, second-born. No title, and potentially no record but a name in the family tree, a brief line saying who his father and older brother are, at best. There are a lot of Lamberts in his family.

Alex hums and yawns. “Nice… nice to meet you, Lambert. Sorry, I’m too sleepy to talk to you today…”

Dimitri chuckles. “It’s alright. Good night, Alex.”

He stays until making sure Alex is asleep and checks on Sitri next. Lucas sprawls across and almost takes up the entire bed, leaving Sitri no room but his side. The girl sleeps soundly, holding the dog tight.

The fluffy dog shoots his eyes open, wagging his tail at the sight of Dimitri. He doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to wake Sitri up.

“Lucas, you need to leave some space for Sitri,” Dimitri sighs.

Lucas huffs defiantly.

“Well, I guess I cannot do a thing when I’m a ghost…”

Frustrated, Dimitri turns and blinks and the room goes empty.

The bed and small desk are gone. The toys are gone. No dog. No girl soundly sleeping. The floor is bare, with no carpet or any of Sitri’s unfinished paintings scattering across. The fireplace looks so much… ancient, and nobody still possibly uses that when better ones are designed to get the smoke out. There are no candles, and the only lights source is the fireplace—

Light _sources_. There’s also a mirror across the room, shining with a mysterious red light.

Dimitri frowns. This is indeed still Castle Fhirdiad, and he is still in the same room Sitri is sleeping in. But that mirror… he never saw anything like that before.

The ghost floats across the room and stops in front of the mirror. He sees himself, yes, but there is no background. Only Dimitri and darkness behind him.

Before he thinks further, the Crest of Blaiddyd shines on the surface, light rippling out and lighting up the room. Dimitri’s image twists and new scenes show: Dimitri killing the soldiers of his country, stealing a lance from a corpse before taking his flee; Dimitri losing his eye; Dimitri rescued by people from a slum; Dimitri scowling and yelling at Byleth who just woke up and absolutely had no idea of—

“Sothis,” Dimitri beckons, stepping away from the weird mirror. “Sothis, what’s going on?”

But he hears nothing. He feels nothing in the back of his head. Sothis would always say something back, and he should always feel her. It’s strange and wrong.

He has been avoiding the thoughts of his past, those images in the mirror triggering a terrible panic in his chest, almost swallowing him. _It’s alright_. Dimitri tries to convince himself. It’s only a dream, and maybe I’m in the process of waking up…

And then Dimitri notices the tapestry. Very, very old, and the pattern and the coat of arms…

Isn’t it the old Dukedom symbol? The one created at the beginning of the Empire, replaced once Faerghus gained independence, and the one Cornelia restored after “executing” Dimitri and taking over Fhirdiad?

Is he back in the Usurpation Period, as scholars name Cornelia’s reign?

But the old tapestry looks too ancient for Cornelia’s taste, and Dimitri is very sure all of the original ones have either rotten away or lost in history.

A man suspiciously looks like Lambert enters the room while another suspiciously resembles Rodrigue follows him in a hurry.

“Loog, you have to listen to me—"

_Is this what I think I am…_ Dimitri almost has a heart attack, stumbling back and almost going through the wall behind him.

“I understand your worries, dear friend,” Loog stops in front of the mirror, which shines with the Crest of Blaiddyd. “But Pan is sincere. He may have an unknown background, but we saved him, and now he saved us, Kyphon. We all are friends now.”

“But this mirror— It creeps me out. Something about it doesn’t feel right. Why would he gift it to you? And he what… crafted it specifically for people with your Crest, so only you and your future children can activate it? That’s weird magic, Loog. If you can pry into people’s memories with such a thing, then maybe we should look at his past, first.”

“We do not do that to a friend! Just like I would never pry into your secrets with it,” Kyphon raises his voice, clearly frustrated. “Look, I really appreciate you looking out for me, but we really should be able to trust our allies, especially if we want to win this war.”

The young Fraldarius lord is silent, both of his eyes closed. Loog moves closer when he receives no response and gently tilts his friend’s chin up with a finger, too gentle for anyone with the Blaiddyd strength. He is inches away from the raven-haired’s face, eyes full of nothing but fondness, “Ky…”

Kyphon only turns away his face, but the blond chuckles, capturing his lips almost immediately. The man with dark hair blushes and inevitably melts into the kiss, and he only makes Loog hungrier, his attack more aggressive.

“Loog—” Kyphon tries to push him away, but the Blaiddyd is much stronger, holding him in place. “Please, Loog.”

“It’s only us here.”

“My lord—”

“Do not call me that!” Loog bites into Kyphon’s lips, hard enough to draw blood.

“But… We… we really should not.”

“I don’t care what people say.”

“But I care,” Kyphon finally gets him out of the grip, stammering along with the words. “I care too much about you that I want no slander or insults… to disgrace your name.”

“Ky—”

“Please, my lord. We need the minor lords’ support. We have to keep your image… perfect. I cannot allow myself to—”

“You’re their hero, Ky! You brought towns after towns out of the Emperor’s grip when his troops trampled the lands and I was too far away from Gautier. You went to their aid and almost risked your own life, Kyphon. They would not—”

“But this is a whole different matter,” Kyphon turns away, pained. “I… have to make sure you get all of their support or we will lose the war. The Emperor would kill all of us.”

Loog reaches out to grab his arm, but the Fraldarius already walks out of the room and closes the door behind him, his footsteps disappearing into the distant hallway.

Dimitri is too shocked to even know what he should think. _Loog and Kyphon? But… both of them took a wife after the independence war, did they not?_

He turns and then sees Lambert and Rodrigue.

It is such a beautiful day. Warm lights of the afternoon sun illuminates the two man with an orange haze. There is no way that he can mistake them for anyone else—both in Officers Academy uniform, and both young.

Lambert has Rodrigue in his arms.

“Rodrigue…” is that his father’s voice? Dimitri has never heard him beckoning his stepmother that gentle, as if any tone harsher would tear the space between them, leaving the two apart. He does not want to look at it, peeking at a very, very private moment of his birth father and the man who cared for him like his own son, but Dimitri cannot peel his glance away. They are beautiful.

“Your Highness—”

“Oh please, stop calling me by my title! You are my friend, and you are… everything that I ever want.” He presses a light kiss on the Fraldarius’ lips. Rodrigue trembles in his embrace, but only seconds later, he seems to finally realize what they’ve been doing and gets himself away from the Prince.

“I… I cannot. I’ll… I’ll ruin you, Lambert.”

“I don’t care!”

“Just think about what Rufus would do. I cannot let him destroy you, Lambert. I am your shield. I must protect you from everything.”

“Rodrigue, please…”

Armors rattled on the other side of the door. A knock. The young lords stop their argument before anyone can hear. The afternoon sunshine lights up the room, but shadows—long shadows are left across the floor, intertwining with the delicate floral pattern and the mighty Crest of Blaiddyd craftsman painstakingly put on the windows.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, my lord. The carriage is ready,” a Knight’s muffled voice comes from the outside.

Lambert turns his eyes to Rodrigue for the last time before clearing his throat. “Right. It’s time to go to Garreg Mach.”

\-------

Dimitri shoots his eyes open.

What did he just see?

The Prince inhales sharply, heart pounding like a drum. He is dizzy, shocked, and disoriented, and everything that happened almost feels like a dream. Where is he? Is he still in the past? But Dimitri’s form is concrete now. His head is touching the soft pillow, his body covered by a thin blanket for summer, and his shirt is soaked by sweat, feeling so cold.

It’s dark. From the snores coming from the other beds and the absolute absence of chatter or domestic sounds, Dimitri guesses it’s already past midnight. He thinks he is in some sort of cottage, perhaps the mercenaries’ hideout, still? The smell of timber paneling and flooring enhanced by the rain outside, reminding him of a barn. Bunk beds don’t even exist in the Church or any noble households, and someone has placed Dimitri on the lower bunk. On the wooden box serving as the nightstand, there is a water pitcher, a mortar and pestle with herbal paste inside, and a roll of fresh bandages.

Dimitri takes a peek around. He sees a corner of a cape draping from above, Fraldarius blue shining in the moonlight. So Felix is on the top bunk. Dedue has made himself a cot on the floor, guarding his Prince’s bed. On the other side of the Duscur boy is Ashe’s bed, who is sleeping soundly and a hand dangling down. Dedue’s right hand is only an inch away from his. Dimitri blinks. Did Ashe and Dedue hold hands before they both fell asleep?

_Where is Byleth?_

Dimitri pushes himself up, but the sharp pain from his chest stops him midway. Dimitri grunts, realizing he is wrapped in bandages.

Then he finally notices another person—Byleth—sleeping in his bed, a hand tightening around his almost subconsciously.

Dimitri smiles. Byleth looks just the same when he is asleep, preferring his side and a pillow between his knees—usually, in the past, the pillow is swapped with Dimitri's legs, and the green-haired nestles against his chest. But now, the Prince doesn’t know if Byleth sleeps so close to the edge and leaving so much space in between them for propriety, or he simply doesn’t want to bump into Dimitri’s wounds by accident.

They were basically pressing up against each other every night in the monastery, so it must be the latter, right?

“Please stop that thought right now, Dimitri. It sounds so sexual,” the goddess fake gags.

_We were chaste and proper all the time. It only means that you’re the one having dirty thoughts._

“Yeah, yeah, chaste and proper. Like you didn’t get a boner.”

Dimitri chokes.

_Sothis, when did I get injured this bad?_ He decides to change the topic.

“Dimitri?” next to Dimitri, Byleth stirs awake, blinking his sleep away.

“Hello Byleth,” the Prince smiles, voice low.

Byleth sighs in relief. “Goddess, Dimitri. You scared the soul out of us.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. How long was I out?”

“About… a day and a half?”

“I hope… I hope I didn’t bring you trouble.”

Byleth almost shoots him a “are you serious” look, “Rodrigue was convinced someone from the monastery attacked you and went back for an investigation right away. Dedue… he was ready to kill people but thankfully Ashe calmed him down. Felix almost… Well, it was…” _a whole mess_. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dimitri swallows, trying not to think about how he really, really scared everyone this time. Rodrigue must be so worried… but then the images come back—Lambert holding Rodrigue, Lambert kissing Rodrigue, Rodrigue flushing and _melting_ in the kiss. He… he tries to understand what to make of it.

“You hungry? I only fed you water because your stomach just healed.”

“I hurt my stomach?”

Byleth stares at him, absolutely deadpan, “You had seven broken ribs, Dimitri. Two almost stuck holes in your heart, and one went through your stomach.”

Sothis flinches.

“And… you saved me again.”

“Yes,” Byleth moves to get out of bed. “I healed your stomach and your heart for now, so you wouldn’t die.”

“And my ribs?”

“I only pushed them back in place so the pain will keep bugging you and remind you to stop the hell dying on us.”

Typical Byleth.

Dimitri takes his hand, slowly moving out of the lower bunk. Dedue shoots his eyes open almost immediately, always a light sleeper when on duty. He relaxes first but then shoots up, almost throwing Dimitri back in bed.

“Your Highness—” Dedue must realize he has accidentally put pressure on Dimitri’s ribs, his face covered with shame and worries. “Please, let me…”

“I’m fine. It’s not something that didn’t happen before.”

“Dimitri,” Dimitri is very surprised by the name coming from Dedue’s mouth. “Will you stop dying?”

_Sothis, what do I say?_

“Promise something else to distract them.”

So Dimitri promises he will be more careful the next time, he will not worry them so much next time, and he will not cause any more trouble and—

“Oi, do you mind you talk somewhere else? We’re trying to sleep,” a mercenary grumbles, but then he sees Dimitri standing in the room. “Oh, hey princeling. Glad you didn’t die on us.”

Dimitri groans. “Byleth is going to get me some food. Do you want to join us, Dedue?”

Dedue turns his head to look at Ashe and then turns to his Prince, but he then turns to Ashe again.

“You can sit by the door, guarding him there,” Byleth cocks his head.

\-------

“Just promise me one thing, Dimitri. Would you stop almost dying but not and totally scared the hell out of us?” Byleth lights up the campfire by the creek with a spell, almost relieved to be able to talk in normal volume.

Dedue sits on the porch. He is not close enough to hear any of their conversations, but not far enough to leave their sight.

“I…”

“I know you were trying to avoid promising anything to Dedue just now,” Byleth quickly boils the water with magic, keeping it on the fire, and then throws some leftover rice into the pot that Dimitri figures is from their dinner.

“I…”

“Don’t try to get away this time,” Byleth warns him, throwing a spike into the water and immediately drags two fish out. Dimitri watches in awe—he has never seen Byleth done that in his past life. Could she not do it back then?

“Focus, princeling. Byleth is not done interrogating you,” the goddess sighs.

“Dimitri!” Byleth smacks the two fish on the head one by one, knocking them out before starting to scale and gut them. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, of course. Absolutely heard you.”

“Then tell me, what happened?”

This time, Dimitri isn’t trying to dodge Byleth’s question. He really does not know what he is asking, and he has no idea why traveling back in time will break his ribs.

“I… to be honest, I am not sure.”

Byleth sighs, butterflying the fish clean in one go and finishing the fillet with two clean, neat cuts. Then he slices the meat into thin, almost translucent pieces before opening up a chest and finding a chunk of ginger root. “I know you said you wouldn’t lie to me, so I trust you for that, but this time, I want you to tell me the truth.” The porridge is foaming up. Byleth wills the fire to go lower so the pot continues to simmer, but the Prince feels like it’s his soul being simmered.

“I should rephrase my question,” Byleth says after cleaning his hands with the crude soap the mercenaries made from animal fat and campfire ash. He gazes intensely into Dimitri’s eyes, almost searing two holes. “Why do you have my power, Dimitri?”

_He what?_ Dimitri gapes.

Byleth must have realized Dimitri is too surprised to be faking. “You are extremely compatible with my power. We all thought you were going to die because of how bad your wounds were, but you responded to my magic as if it is made for you. Just like when we first met, my heals work so well on you while your Knights still needed more time to fully recover. Then I had to be around you to keep my temperature up, and your embraces—” _Is that a blush?_ “I almost suspect that you’re one of us—by us, I don’t even know if there is another person just like me out there, someone who can turn into a dragon and their power always either overwhelming them or draining them empty. I’ve wandered for too long alone, Dimitri, so tell me, what are you?”

_Tell me, Alexandre, what am I to you?_

_You’re my heart, beloved. As cheesy as it may sound, but that is you. What about me?_

_You’re my home. Thank you for giving me a home, Dimitri._

It’s probably because of Sothis. He came to the future because of her. He was using her power to travel through time, to undo things supposed to be inevitable. Sothis is part of him, and Byleth probably still has Sothis’s power—even though there is no way for Dimitri to confirm or fathom why that is the case and how he gets to keep the divine power while not having Sothis with him—but that must be the reason.

“Because I’m from the future, Byleth,” says Dimitri. The goddess screams. Byleth’s eyes widen in shock, not suspicion. “Forgive me, before you brought this up, I never considered our similar power. But in the past, you were the goddess Sothis’s vessel, so you had her power. Now, somehow the goddess has been living in my head. I suppose that is why I had part of her power, which is the same as yours.”

“Why was I the goddess’s vessel?”

“I don’t know. No one knew in the past.”

“Then why is she with you now?”

“Because of a very strange magic attack. We both died, and that magic was meant to separate Sothis from you, but due to… what the goddess said, _love and devotion_ , she was then attached to my soul.”

“If you died, how come you traveled through time and… arrived in the past?” Byleth frowns.

Dimitri takes a deep breath. “Because I promised to love you again, in our next life and the next to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.
> 
> I guess you know what that roasted sliced lamb is, and the bread, and the “fried bean balls”.
> 
> I live a couple of blocks away from a very famous falafel place that was the first to put parsley in falafels. Ten points to anyone who can name it.
> 
> And if you can tell what porridge it is that Byleth made, a hundred points to you. You probably figured out where I’m from.
> 
> Wow this chapter is so long. I didn’t expect it to happen, but the writing this week was basically like, one day I somehow managed to write five thousand, and the second day I only stared at my screen and typed, I don’t know, five? Then the third day (today) I finished the rest.
> 
> No update next week! My very wealthy and charitable friend is taking me to ski and why should I let this opportunity go? (I’ve never skied before so I’m seriously considering getting a hundred paddings for my knees and butt.) I hope this long chapter makes up for that!
> 
> AAAND we are officially reaching 10K hits!!! Thank you all so much for supporting! I know after the lockdown was lifted, the fandom has cooled down a lot, so still being able to make it to 10K is a big deal for me!!! *many many kisses*


	21. Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri grabs his lance and gets an amazing new class.  
> Rodrigue and Dedue have a heart attack again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update for Felix's birthday!
> 
> I was quite nervous about the last paragraph so I asked [dear old meat](https://twitter.com/Meatbike344) to read before I posted this one.
> 
> We also got 10K hits and 100K words and 400 kudos my friends! Yay! Thank you for supporting!  
> This chapter has been in my mind for so long, so I hope it is enough to celebrate Felix's birthday and our 10K day.
> 
> (I have an announcement in the end notes regarding the posting schedule.)

“Because I promised to love you again, in our next life and the next to come.”

Something resembling shock flashes in Byleth’s eyes, and for the Prince, that is disgust. Dimitri swallows as a hot lump gets stuck in the back of his throat, and his face feels hot. _Now he is going to hate me_.

“Don’t expect me to use a Pulse for you!” Sothis grumbles.

And Dimitri is under no condition to do it himself now after barely surviving the injuries.

Dimitri wants to die. He may be better jumping off the cliff or just drowning himself in this river they’re sitting by. He’d better do it before Byleth actually despises him and telling his dad and having Jeralt ending his life with the Blade Breaker’s famous lance.

“Oh,” and yet Byleth simply says.

“I’m pretty sure he just doesn’t know what to say, princeling,” Sothis rolls her eyes. “Byleth also promised to share her life with you, so if this Byleth starts hating you then that’s just terrible of him.”

_There is no way for me to project my feeling for my wife on this Byleth_. Dimitri rubs his face with both hands.

“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t have any feelings for this Byleth!”

_It’s… I’m too scared that I’m smitten with him because of my love for my wife. That would be… unfair for him._

“Well, then let’s talk about your boner—”

“Sothis!” Dimitri doesn’t realize he has shouted out loud until Byleth cocks his head, sending him a confused look. Sothis cackles like a child who succeeds in a prank and disappears into the back of his head.

“Uh, Sothis was… talking nonsense again just now,” Dimitri explains, and he feels his brain kicked by something. He’d better stop talking about the goddess lest he got a concussion.

Dimitri is expecting questions such as “You’re hearing from Sothis right now?” or “Is she here?” or something along the line, but Byleth asks curiously, “What did she say?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Byleth quirks a brow because Dimitri just told him the goddess was telling nonsense, but he relents. An awkward silence grows between them, and Dimitri thinks he must jump into the water now.

The congee has been boiling for quite a while. None of them notices until it starts to erupt like a volcano, hissing against the fire. Byleth quickly pours some cold water in, waiting for another boil.

“Then convince me,” Byleth says. _Convince him what?_ Dimitri opens his mouth but no sound comes out. _That he loved him in the past?_ “I mean…” the older teen quickly realizes the embarrassing confusion he has caused, pink dusting his cheeks. “I’ve seen many people claiming crazy things either because of their malignant intentions or because they’re… mentally troubled, but clearly you are very kind to me. So prove to me that you really are from the future. Just… I have to make sure I don’t need to bring you to a healer.”

“Your favorite dessert is lemon sables,” Dimitri blurts. “Better if it has a hint of ginger flavor.” _And when you were pregnant you ate so much that I got worried and we had a fight and then Ashe started cooking for you_ —Dimitri really wants to say, but it might be too much right now to tell Byleth that he was a woman back then when Dimitri is already trying to prove he really traveled through time.

Byleth’s eyes widen.

“Though you’re a meat lover, you still prefer fish, and you’d spend hours by the creek to catch the biggest salmon in the Wyvern Moon. You love cooking the fish fresh out of the water, and we’d sit around a fire and roast it right there. Sometimes we’d find wild onions, and whenever that happened, it was your happiest day,” _our wedding day not included, of course._

“You can eat onions like apples. Peel the outer layers. Then just bite,” Dimitri chuckles, thinking about the past. “You stopped doing that after coming to Garreg Mach as a professor because it’d give you bad breath, but whenever we sneaked out to get roasted lamb on Friday nights, you’d buy an onion from a nearby vendor because the only one you’d still be with that late would be me, and you knew I wouldn’t mind kissing you with all the onion smell.”

The ginger root sitting on Byleth’s lap catches Dimitri’s attention. He grabs it and crushes it over the pot, allowing all the ginger juice to drip into their congee. (Sometimes the Blaiddyd strength is very useful.) “You like ginger flavor, but never the ginger bits. The fiber bothers you very much. At Garreg Mach, you’d pick them out if there were any, but the palace kitchen knew your preference. They either grated it into a smooth paste or simply cooked with the juice.”

The fire cracks at the bottom of the iron pot. A few drops of the ginger juice drips into the fire and it hisses louder.

Byleth adds the fish slices into the pot, “I believe you.”

_This quickly?_ Dimitri does a double-take. He was already on his way to talk about how Byleth could easily share five meals in a row with ten different people just for lunch.

“It does explain a lot. Besides, you’ve only talked about the food preferences of the future me. I care about nothing but food, indeed. And sword, and my father of course, and the mercenary, and flying, and—” he pauses.

“And?” Dimitri stirs the pot with a spoon so the fish slices would stick together.

Byleth turns his face away from the prince, a hand covering his eyes _. Is that a blush?_

“Byleth, are you seriously holding back after I told you my craziest secret?”

“And you,” Byleth’s voice is strained. “And you now, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s consciousness all evaporates and disappears into nothingness. He can’t think. Sothis squeaks in his head, rubbing both hands together, and screams something like “way to go Byleth,” but Dimitri can hear nothing of it.

Byleth extinguishes the fire once the fish all turn pale white, the slices curling up and bounce against the boiling congee. He pours some into a bowl for Dimitri, and the Prince barely registers when he wordlessly accepts the food. “I think…” Byleth continues after a long silence between the two, “you’re my first friend.”

Sothis’ squeal comes to an abrupt end while Dimitri finally gathers his senses and finds them shattered into pieces. “Friend?”

“Are we not friends, Dimitri?” Byleth frowns.

“Yes! We—of course we—” Dimitri sputters, spilling some congee on his palm, but he doesn’t realize the pain until Byleth quickly casts a healing spell. He has to change the topic. “I mean… Do you not meet a lot of people while you visit different parts of the continent?”

“I’m a dragon when I travel, Dimitri. People either run for their life or try to turn my skin into some fancy overcoat. And when the energy wears me off, I hide on an island to rest where no one except my father comes to visit sometimes.”

“…oh.” Dimitri takes a deep breath. It is even worse than the previous Byleth’s situation—at least she got to have the mercenaries as her pseudo-family. Now, it seems he has to be away so much. He still cares for his father’s company, but Byleth has no power against whatever entity that turned him into a dragon.

Silence grows between them. Byleth stares at the pot while Dimitri finds great interest in a piece of fish in his bowl.

“I’m sorry. I must’ve made you uncomfortable—what I told you earlier,” Dimitri sighs.

“No, no,” Byleth shakes his head. “It’s just… Nobody ever told me that before.”

_I doubt anyone else would travel through time and tell you that._ Dimitri thinks.

“But… it’s nice, to hear you were so in love with… him.”

_Her_. Dimitri wants to say, but it might be too soon. His heart still hurts, wrenched like the fish he’s eating that Byleth tore the bones out when filleting the poor thing.

Byleth only thinks of him as a friend.

\-------

“Would you stop scaring the life out of us, Your Highness?” Rodrigue sighs instead of the usual greeting.

“My apologies…” Dimitri says, genuinely feeling bad not regretting anything.

Dedue is taking freshly baked bread out of the campfire—wrapped in a metal meal box and buried under the ground. Over the fire, he has prepared scrambled eggs with herbs he found in the forest. The mercenaries rarely cook anything nice on the road, so the rowdy group starts singing church songs but swapping the goddess’s name with Dedue’s, making the Duscur teen blush unconcealable. Ashe helps him cut the bread into thick slices, giggling all the way.

The Prince looks around. Strange. Some of them are missing. “Where are Christophe and Lord Lonato?” And the mercenary group is definitely smaller than before. “And Captain Jeralt?”

“My father and some mercenaries already took Christophe to the island I talked about. The place I hide,” Byleth explains.

“Lord Lonato returned to Gaspard for the fake funeral for Christophe. It’d be abnormal if he stayed here,” Felix says. “Just use your brain, boar.”

“Felix,” Rodrigue warns and earns an eye roll from his son.

_Right, so everything is under control._

Ingrid and Sylvain have followed Rodrigue to the mercenaries’ secret hideout. Sylvain gives him a crushing hug while Ingrid smacks the back of his head. The Prince has not been attacked by the Lady Knight for many, many years since the academy days, and he almost forgot how painful her smacks can be.

“I heard what happened, Dimitri,” Ingrid finally lets go of Dimitri’s arm. “Seriously, did you just decide to leave out the two of us and then almost got yourself fatally injured somehow in the process?”

“I’m sorry, but your room and Sylvain’s quarters are too far away from mine. I didn’t have time,” Dimitri says apologetically.

“Then ask some knights to fetch us!” Sylvain protests, but then he spots Byleth who just happens to walk past to fetch a water bucket, innocently attracted by the commotion. The redhead grins, greeting, “Oh hello Byleth, still very handsome today, aren’t you?” The rest of the F4 collectively groan.

Byleth blinks, says nothing, and simply turns around to leave the scene. With the bucket, of course.

“Now, Your Highness,” Sylvain grabs Dimitri’s shoulders, pretending to lower his voice for a _private conversation_ while knowing everyone else can still hear. “How are things with Byleth?”

“Byleth’s been alright,” Dimitri says.

“Well, let me rephrase. Have you made any moves yet? I have no idea how you resisted the hot, overwhelming temptation—"

Then everyone in the camp hears Sylvain’s scream. Even Rodrigue does nothing to save the boy.

\-------

“How are things in the monastery?” Dimitri asks. The teenagers decide to go out hunting for the day since none of them is in a hurry of going anywhere. Ashe was still shy, overwhelmed by the other noble heirs’ presence, but Dedue managed to convince him to come.

“Well, Lord Rodrigue believed you were attacked and went back. He told no one but us though. It’d be very disturbing and… politically dangerous to let people know some assassins succeeded in their attempt,” Ingrid says. “But what exactly happened? Lord Rodrigue couldn’t find any evidence or clues, so he just told Lady Rhea you were very disturbed by the incident and decided to go on hiking.”

“To be honest, I have no idea…” Dimitri says. He sees Byleth cocking his head in curiosity and realizes he has not told the green-haired that he turned back the hand of time to change everything. Maybe he shouldn’t. It is hard for him to imagine how many allies’ deaths Byleth witnessed during the war, how many times Dimitri died and she had to watch, how many times the Lions… Maybe it’s better to keep it to himself.

“You have to give them some explanation, princeling, or the topic will keep coming back,” Sothis warns him.

_Alright. What do I say?_

“Anything. Stupid and lame will do.”

“I think it’s because I tried to use a fire spell…” Dimitri says, expecting the laughs from Sylvain and the look of incredulity from Ingrid.

“Seriously, Your Highness?” Ingrid’s eyes are bigger than eggs now. “As far as we know, your family’s affiliation in magic has always been… let’s say, disappointing, but almost killing yourself with a fire spell?”

Then nobody brings up the topic again, but unfortunately, Dimitri has to endure Sylvain’s tease for the rest of the day.

The next day, Rodrigue takes Dimitri back to the monastery to prepare for their trip to Fhirdiad, and of course, Rhea wants to talk to him again.

The Prince honestly has no idea what he did to make Rhea so interested in him since the beginning. In the past, the Archbishop never talked to him for more than ten minutes, and that was all for a mission. And the only occasion they talked about anything else was after Dimitri and the Lions freed her from the cell in Embarr, but now? All the tea party for what?

He has been having a weird feeling since the return to Garreg Mach. The Faerghus minor lords are all gone, saving for a few who were very quiet during the disastrous, ahem, _meeting_ (shouting match or an almost-duel?) and seemingly had little to do with Faerghus politics. Dimitri doesn’t care about anybody or anything in the situation, but Lord Kleiman made him unnerved. Why has he left so suddenly? In three days, the Church will hold a very important ritual for Saint Cethelean because, apparently, it was canceled due to weather reasons last moon on Saint Cethelean Day.

They came to the monastery for this hymn; then why did they leave so early?

“Your Highness?” Rhea’s voice brings Dimitri back.

Dimitri coughs before apologizing for his wandered mind.

“Such a sweet child,” Rhea smiles. She looks so gentle, so loving, but the voice simply alarms the Prince. Not to mention a 28 years old man can hardly be counted as a child anymore.

Why did she invite him? Just so they can talk about books and children at the market and close calls and cooking mishaps?

Dimitri is so tired of being trapped in the monastery. He needs to leave soon or he’s sure he will go insane.

Luckily, Rodrigue finishes planning and preparing in a day. The Faerghans hop on their horses or get in the carriages the next morning, ready to go home. But just as the front gate opens, a man stumbles across the border and almost falls in front of Dimitri out of exhaustion. He’s in Faerghus blue, with a badge on his chest signifying his position as a messenger to House Baldwin.

“Your Highness! Lord Baldwin has a letter for you!”

_Peter’s father?_ Dimitri frowns. _Isn’t he only fifteen now? How…_ But then he realizes Peter’s grandfather is still alive before the war.

Dimitri opens the letter immediately. It is rare for nobles to send emergency messages to the Prince, and if that happened, just like right now, it’d be either the Regent died or a national emergency. But if it’s from House Baldwin instead of the palace, the latter is the only possibility.

Rodrigue also understands the situation, brows furrow like deep valleys.

“There’s a riot in the capital,” Dimitri folds the letter before securing it in his pocket.

“What?!” A riot in Fhirdiad, trying to overthrow the government.

“May I ask the reason, Your Highness?” only Rodrigue is still calm.

“Kleiman worked with Cornelia,” _to take control over Duscur_ —this part Baldwin’s letter doesn’t mention but Dimitri knows for his past experience, “The villagers from Duscur participated in the annual farm festival. Kleiman ordered to execute the participants—” Dedue almost pales, so Dimitri quickly adds, “Please rest assured, my friend. They were injured but already received proper medical assistance. The problem is, Kleiman’s action and his… let’s say, _hired swords_ , enraged the citizens. Many rose to defend the Duscurians. Then Cornelia sent troops in.”

“ **WHAT?** ”

“Residents of the entire city have joined the riot, demanding Cornelia out of the palace. It’s getting out of control,” Dimitri concludes, turning to Rhea. “Lady Rhea, do we have mages who can cast the Warp spell?”

“They are currently on individual missions, but if we summon them now, they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” Of course, sending people to find them takes time. Dimitri shakes his head in disapproval.

“If I take a horse, we may be able to arrive in the capital in two days.” Dimitri turns to Rodrigue, “What’s the weather like this week?”

“There will be a rainstorm, Your Highness.”

“Then there’s no way…” Dimitri clenches the window of his carriage too hard that it shatters. What can he do? If he delays any longer, Cornelia may be able to gather troops from elsewhere. Should he notify the Kingdom knights? No, knights are still knights, with rigorous training and entrance requirements so they are easily outnumbered by soldiers, and waiting for them to receive his message will waste too much time…

“Are you afraid of height?” Byleth says. All the eyes turn to the green-haired, and yet he does not flinch. “We can get there this afternoon if you’d like.”

“Huh?” Dimitri doesn’t register at first.

Rodrigue understands right away. “No,” he steps up to Dimitri and Byleth. “No, definitely no, Your Highness.”

_Ooh._

“Are you sure? You said… transformation would take a lot of energy,” Dimitri asks.

“I’ve rested enough. Should be alright,” Byleth nods.

“No. Your Highness,” Dedue now joins the no team.

“Hey hey, what are we talking about?” Sylvain grins at everybody, hands on the back of his head. “Care to explain?”

He doesn’t need an explanation because in a second, Byleth has jumped over the parapet separating the monastery grounds and the cliffs. It’s too fast. No one can even mutter a sound, and the next thing they see is the blinding light coming from the valley, and then they hear the terrifying roar that clearly belongs to anything but legend.

Rhea almost trips over her dress, running down the stairs and almost crying. But no one notices the Archbishop’s slip from her usual calmness because the “thing” emerges from the valley, and a dragon stands in front of everyone.

“What just happened?” Seteth freezes on the spot when he comes out of the door. The sounds and light have drawn many out of the castle.

The dragon is quiet—polite, even. He carefully hops over the gate and the surrounding walls, obviously not wanting to cause any property damage, and stops in front of the Faerghans—Dimitri, to be exact.

Byleth lowers one of his wings, waiting for Dimitri.

“Wow, huh, isn’t that cool?” Sylvain says.

Ingrid quickly smacks him, “Your… Your Highness— What's going on? Isn’t this dangerous?”

"Please, Dimitri!" Rodrigue tries to stop him.

Dimitri responds by grabbing his lance, ready to hop on Byleth’s wing.

“What if you fall? What if anything happens—” Dedue pleads.

“I understand your worries, but we have no time to waste,” Dimitri says. It is not difficult to climb up a dragon. Byleth’s wing is flat, easy for Dimitri to step on. Then the dragon lifts the wing to his back, allowing the Prince to settle between his shoulder blades. There is a long spike for Dimitri to hold on to.

Byleth turns his head around, his eyes asking.

“I’m ready,” Dimitri nods.

He braces for the thrust and lift, but the way Byleth ascends is smooth, too smooth to realize they’re already high up in the air.

Dimitri opens his eyes.

He sees mountains, decorated by clouds like a bride’s veil. The clouds stretch from thousands of miles away, a beginning where no one can tell, to Dimitri’s hands, like the silk scrolls the Almyran merchants brought from the east. Except they are much, much longer, with the sky as their canvas.

Dimitri touches the cloud. It is a strange feeling for no human being is supposed to be flying. He may regret getting on Byleth’s back because now horse-riding seems so mundane, so normal, and so less liberating as diving in the sky.

“Now I see the perks of being a dragon, Byleth,” Dimitri laughs. Byleth gives a snort that he takes as a positive response.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Sothis gasps as if recalling her distant past.

_Are you alright, Sothis?_

“Yes… just… the memories.”

_Get some rest. It will be a long day._

If not Fhirdiad is burning on fire, or angry people threatening to drag Cornelia out of the palace, or maybe more troops coming inside the capital, Dimitri can enjoy the momentary thrill of flying a dragon who also happens to be the person he promised to love forever. He needs to think of a plan, but what kind of plan can he come up with? The only intel he received came from Lord Baldwin. Dimitri trusts the man to stay loyal to the crown and never deceive his Prince, but a letter only has that much information.

Where was the farm festival, to begin with? Where did the conflict first break out? Was Kleiman the first to resort to violence or somebody else? Is Cornelia planning to slaughter the people? People are angry enough to kill Cornelia—not that Dimitri blames or wants to stop them—but what about his uncle? Are they planning to harm Uncle Rufus?

As far as Dimitri detests his useless uncle, he does not want him to die, not to mention the Regent dying from the hands of his people would send a very alarming signal to the rest of the world.

And most importantly, he cannot let the innocent die.

Fhirdiad—no, Faerghus cannot go into chaos again.

It is cold at this height, but Byleth’s body is warm, almost like the hearth in their royal suite where the couple used to read their twins stories, and Lucas would always try to steal his cloak. It wounds Dimitri that Byleth only considers them friends, but being this close with him still soothes his anxiety, his rage that Cornelia and Kleiman dared to harm his people—the villagers Dedue call family.

Just to imagine, if anything happens to Dedue’s mother and sister…

Dimitri shakes his head hard, trying to get rid of the grim thoughts. They’ll be okay. He can fix this.

It takes mere hours for Dimitri and Byleth to approach the capital. They can see Castle Fhirdiad on top of the mountain, shadowing the rest of the city.

Dimitri can already see things are wrong from the sky. Houses are burning. Streets are blocked. And…

Byleth huffs in shock. They see troops coming in from the southern gate, marching towards where the commoners gather in the square.

He has to get there.

“Byleth, the square,” Dimitri beckons. However, the dragon clearly doesn’t need his instruction because Byleth is already descending in that direction.

A few battalions already surround the square. The people are so scared and furious that many chant to protest—sneering even, doing everything to provoke the soldiers. Dimitri feels his heart beating at the back of his throat. All that requires is an order. An order from Cornelia to attack and slaughter the people. He needs to act fast.

People look up to the sky noticing the looming shadows Byleth casts on the ground. Some yells “dragon.” Some choke up in fear.

But then a familiar voice. “It’s the messenger of the goddess!” Mateo, the leader of Duscur villagers, almost cries, a finger pointing at Byleth. “The goddess has made her judgment and is here to punish those who dare harm her children!”

A momentary silence before people nod in agreement, shouting praises to the heavens and thanking Sothis for coming to their aid. To be honest, they’re not wrong. Without Sothis, Byleth wouldn’t have been a dragon (though no one knows the exact reason but only the causation). Without Sothis, Dimitri would’ve perished in the future, and no one would protect his people.

Byleth lands on the ground with his deafening roar, spitting fire high into the sky as if warning all the soldiers that approached for an attack.

“On Lady Cornelia’s order, attack” but the general gives out the order, and soldiers lunging to slaughter the people.

But Byleth steps on the troops, stopping their onslaught for just a moment, and then roars his anger again. The army is scared, backing off in hesitation.

The lands tremble. The wind vibrates. Fire heats up the air and Dimitri leaps off Byleth’s back and slides down a wing. He swipes his lance clean at a captain trying to attack a young man. The captain collapses onto the ground, holding the gash on his thigh.

People gasps, seeing the blond boy emerging from the dragon’s back, eyes full of fury like the god of war himself.

“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the Crown Prince and heir to the throne. I command you to retreat or I shall bring down retribution myself!” Dimitri raises his lance with Byleth spitting fire in the back. “And my word, is the law!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Airline Seiros, flight Byleth from Garreg Mach to Fhirdiad. Please hold on to the spike and we will take off after the tower gives us the signal.
> 
> Honestly, fe3h’s classes are so imbalanced. I never make Dedue a Great Knight again after realizing how terrible that class is. War Master is great but it’s male only. I hope there are more options such as… Dimitri the Dragon Rider.
> 
> An announcement. I got my thesis schedule along with other project deadlines and then the dean told us about a senior showcase that the department never had before... I never expected this semester to be this hectic. Weekly updates will be impossible from now to the end of May. I’ll definitely try to post new chapters every other week, but if I disappeared for a while, don’t be alarmed! I won’t orphan my fic!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I post something in English! Please feel free to correct my word choice, because that's how we learn a language.
> 
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/wrcdiane)


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